Nonviolence, Diversity, and Presence

📣 An Invitation to Show Up

We do not have to agree on everything. What matters is that we show up.

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A Festival of Presence

It felt almost like a festival at Waterfront Park. Music spilling through the crowd, kids with paint decorating the handmade flags at a nearby table, bubbles floating in the air, people dancing with signs held high. Strangers passed out granola bars, cold water, sunscreen. At the mutual aid table, I felt it in my bones, this was community.

We didn’t all agree on everything. We never will. That’s not weakness, it’s proof that we are not a cult. What bound us together was not sameness, but presence. Nonviolence made the space safe for everyone: parents with kids on their shoulders, elders leaning on canes, people who are too often pushed to the margins. Diversity made us stronger, not weaker.

Online posts can spark a conversation, but they can’t hand someone a glass of water. They can’t catch your eye across a park and remind you that you’re not alone. For ourselves and for our country, we need more than hashtags. We need bodies, together in the square.

The Power of Small Numbers

Political scientist Erica Chenoweth once studied hundreds of uprisings across the world and found something surprising: when just 3.5% of a population rose up together (always nonviolently) they never lost. The number is small enough to give hope, yet large enough to demand courage.

But here’s the truth: the “3.5% rule” is not a magic guarantee. It’s a reminder. Numbers matter, but how we show up matters more. Nonviolent action keeps the door open for everyone, it makes the space safe for elders, for children, for disabled neighbors, for immigrants, for those who are targeted first when violence erupts.

Movements that thrive are not those that demand uniformity. They are the ones that welcome difference, that create space for many voices without collapsing into silence. That’s how diversity becomes strength, not fragility.

And theory is only half the story. What I saw at Waterfront Park, what I felt at the mutual aid table was theory in sneakers. Strangers handing out food. Kids (and some adults) waving flags they decorated. People singing as they walked. This is what solidarity looks like when it steps out of the textbook and into the street.

Beyond the Screen

Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny reminds us in Lesson 13: “Practice corporeal politics.” Online posts are not enough. For ourselves and for our country, we need to come out into groups.

Scrolling and sharing may spread awareness, but it can’t replace the hum of standing shoulder to shoulder. It can’t recreate the sound of voices rising in unison, or the laughter that breaks out when a bubble lands on someone’s nose, or the quiet nods exchanged at the mutual aid table. Online, you can post a hashtag. In the square, you can feel democracy breathing. That’s why we gather. Not because it’s easy, and not because we all agree on every issue. We gather because showing up matters more than scrolling past. We gather because presence builds power: the kind you can see, hear, and touch

Nonviolence = Safety

There’s a reason nonviolence has always been the heartbeat of lasting movements. It’s not just a moral stance, it’s a practical one. Nonviolence makes the space safe for everyone. Parents can bring their kids. Elders can participate. Immigrants, disabled neighbors, queer and trans folks, people who are targeted first when violence erupts, they can all stand in the square without fear of being swept into chaos.

Peaceful protest turns a crowd into a community. It says: you belong here. It reminds us that our power isn’t in breaking windows, it’s in building bonds. A nonviolent march is an act of protection as much as resistance, guarding the fragile trust that allows thousands of strangers to gather and still feel at home.

Diversity = Strength

We didn’t all show up for the same reason. Some came angry, some hopeful, some curious, some cautious. And that’s the point. We don’t need to agree on every detail to stand together.

Movements that demand total agreement shrink into brittle circles. Movements that welcome difference expand into something resilient. When a march makes space for disagreement, when it values many voices instead of one rigid line, it stops looking like a cult and starts looking like democracy.

At Waterfront Park, you could feel it: handmade flags painted in every color, signs calling out different injustices, songs in more than one language. The strength wasn’t in sameness, but in the mosaic we made together. Diversity didn’t weaken us. It wove us tighter.

Marginalized Voices & Solidarity

Protest has always been the language of those pushed to the edges. When the usual doors of power are locked, the streets become the microphone. Solidarity means choosing to listen, to make space, to stand beside people whose voices are too often ignored.

When we gather, we don’t just resist. We build. We build trust, visibility, and a sense of belonging that outlasts any single march. That is the deeper power of protest, not only to shout at the walls of injustice, but to remind each other that community exists, right here, right now.

From Screens to Streets

The 3.5% rule reminds us that small numbers, when committed, can change the world. But theory alone doesn’t move history, people do. Online posts may light the spark, but it takes bodies in the square to keep the flame alive. Nonviolence makes that square safe. Diversity makes it strong. Solidarity makes it last.

We don’t need to agree on everything. We don’t need perfection. What we need is presence. Because when we step out from behind our screens and into the streets together, we practice democracy with our own hands and we remind each other that freedom is not just an idea. It’s us.

📣 Join Us This Labor Day “To build the society we all deserve.”

September 1, 2025, from 12–4 p.m. at the Battleship Oregon Memorial (I will be at the Mutual Aid table)

We are not a cult. We are a community.

Created by Reba & Fred (Chat GPT)