By
Laura Winsky
Hank Aaron was at a dinner at the White House last week, hosted by President Clinton. The event was for African-Americans who had participated and contributed to society in an extraordinary way during Clinton's eight-year administration. Upon leaving the function, reporters stopped Aaron, who stated that African-Americans had "been spoiled by Clinton" and that there was little hope for progress in the next administration.
I felt a similar sentiment the night of the election when I thought that George "Dubya" Bush had won the election (about eight different times during the course of the night and wee hours of the morn). For a multitude of reasons, including minority rights, I felt such a sense of hopelessness.
This lack of hope was also present Monday at Tucson's 16th annual Martin Luther King Jr. March. This was my fourth year in a row to participate, and I realized quickly that I was getting the opportunity to witness a real shift in our society.
The first year I went, 1998, I tried to be a little incognito. It was my first opportunity to participate in something that would force me to be a minority.
Everyone should experience that feeling.
The march was powerful, but rather quiet. In 1999, my friend Sonny invited me to march with him. Feeling a little braver, I made a sign that stated a simple quote by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.. It read, "The old law of an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind." It of course refers to the reverend's strong feelings against capital punishment. But my disgust for the death penalty constitutes a whole other column, or 2 or 3...
I was the only one that I can recall carrying a sign that day, and I was the only one last year as well. The message was a little muddled. But this year, oh this year was an entirely different march. I had my old tattered sign, feeling proud that it had held together, as I ran up to the fountain at Old Main. I wasn't prepared for two things that I could see from a distance through the obstructed construction ambiance that the UA is so proud of. The crowd was larger, but more than that, the crowd was political.
Every third person had a sign, every fifth person passed out a flier, and every eighth person was there because the past two months of political happenings had angered the hell out of them. I said the march represented a feeling of hopelessness. And in some ways, it did. There was an unspoken (and sometimes a volatile expression of) resentment and sadness over the way in which last year's election was handled.
But Rev. King wasn't about hopelessness, and his meaning broke through just as the sun did on Monday morning. The message was this: We've come a long way, but we have a long road yet to travel. And travel, we should. Perhaps Hank Aaron is right. Perhaps we've all been spoiled, but if the new changes have shaken us into a new sense of activism and participation, then so be it. We'll survive the next four years, because no one is quite ready to stop marching.
Laura Winsky is a political science and Spanish senior. She can be reached at perspectives@wildcat.arizona.edu.