Protest rookies

Just when activism looked like it had been reduced to mouse-clicks on digital petitions, a new breed of protesters has marched forward, galvanized by the policies of Donald Trump.

Among their ranks, many are demonstrating for the first time. At the flagship Women's March in Washington, for example, a third of participants in a survey said it was their first-ever picketing event. Of 527 people surveyed, just more than 60 per cent identified women's rights as their reason for demonstration. Tied for second place were causes including the environment, racial justice, LGBTQ rights and reproductive rights.

Historically, protests have focused on a single social issue, noted survey authors Dana R. Fisher, Dawn M. Dow and Rashawn Ray — three University of Maryland sociologists who published their findings on a sociology website called the Society Pages. The Women's March was distinct because protesters were not only motivated by "concrete issues," they wrote, but also "by a desire to protect and reassert a vision of America that embraces diversity and inclusion as a strength rather than a threat."

North of the border, similar values have compelled thousands coast to coast to add their voices to the cry of outrage on issues ranging from Black Lives Matter to the Trump immigration ban.

The Globe and Mail spoke to five Canadians about what it feels like to protest for the first time, and the issues that inspired them to get out and march.

Laura MacGregor

My son Matthew is 18 years old. He has a very severe form of cerebral palsy. He also has a global developmental delay, so he doesn’t speak. He’s a fairly complicated kid.

Like many people, I was offended by Trump's mockery of someone with a disability. When I saw that, there was this immediate sense of disbelief: Did you just do that? There was anger that this powerful man would abuse his power and privilege to belittle or mock someone with a disability. And then there was profound sadness that the world accepts it. That's the part that just breaks my heart. I expected better behaviour from my children when they were age 3. And somehow, we're able to accept such behaviour from a world leader.

So that was something that motivated me. And really, I wanted to express solidarity with all of these people who feel marginalized, be they women, be they people who are Muslim, be they people with disabilities – anyone who is feeling marginalized within this collective narrative that seems to be emerging.

I wanted to express my concern about the direction I'm witnessing south of the border and, even to a certain extent, our more conservative elements here. I wanted to be part of something that said, "This is not the world we want."

I also have three boys, so misogyny is something I take seriously. I want them to understand that this is not how men behave.

I was invited to the Women's March in Toronto by a good friend. I actually didn't think I was going to be able to attend because Matthew had been quite ill and it can be quite difficult to get away. But in the end, we were able to get a nurse so I was able to go.

A group of us got up and carpooled there that morning. I had speed-knitted a pussy hat the night before in about three hours. It was too big but I made it work. I didn't have a sign, though my friends did. But I wore a sweatshirt that has the classic image of a person in a wheelchair, but instead of the wheel, it's a heart. So that was sort of my sign, expressing solidarity for people with disabilities.

It was my first real protest of any kind. It was exciting, it was empowering, it was fun. It was neat to be with all sorts of other people who wanted to express concern too. There was this pretty wonderful feeling of "Oh, I've found my people!"

Separately, I was very proud of the fact Matthew is part of what's called the Buddy Choir. It's a choir for children and young adults with disabilities, and frankly, anybody who wants to sing. The kids had heard about the shooting in Quebec and they wanted to do something. So they sang a song that was posted to Facebook and shared broadly to express their "we are in this together" message.

What all of this is doing is creating an activist in me. I'm someone who has strong opinions and I believe in social justice, but I never took to the streets because that's not what middle-aged suburban women do. But some of the things you read in the news start to hit home. And if I don't speak out against things that concern me, then I am complicit.

I don't know if I'll continue to protest or march, but there's this awareness I'm not comfortable sitting on the sidelines any longer.

Laura MacGregor, 49, lives in Waterloo, Ont.
– As told to Wency Leung

Linh Nguyen

I'm a 21-year-old student at the University of Toronto, and this Monday [Jan. 30], I attended my first protest, at the U.S. consulate against the Muslim ban.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I debated throughout the weekend whether or not to go. As an anxiety-prone introvert, I find crowds overwhelming and claustrophobic and have always avoided parades, protests, or even the TTC during rush hours.

But like thousands of others, I'd felt increasingly horrified by each piece of news from the U.S. since Jan. 20; the Muslim ban and the Quebec mosque attack were breaking points. I felt shock and anger, which was unusual because I don't think I get angry very often. And it was really heartbreaking seeing all the stories and interviews of people affected by the Muslim ban.

It was silly to stay at home seething and weeping and asking myself what I could do when others were raising their voices all around me. Though I did not entirely agree with shutting down the consulate, I did not see attending as much of a choice in the end, but rather an obligation. If I wanted to be the person I wanted to see myself as, then I wouldn't be at home doing nothing.

Right until the morning of, my stomach felt queasy from nerves. I knew I was being a coward; all of my friends had attended protests before, and their company factored largely in my decision to go.

We met up at Victoria College, where the student council was hosting a 7 a.m. preprotest poster-making session and walk. The main meeting room was full. The table was covered with cardboard, markers and page-sized printouts of Mike Pence's tweet, "Calls to ban Muslims from entering the U.S. are offensive and unconstitutional." Music played, and everyone was chatting and applauding each other's signs. Within minutes of cutting and taping, I felt relaxed and energized.

The nerves returned as we approached the consulate, but they did not stay for long. The crowd was extremely supportive and respectful, and I did not once feel unsafe or out of place. It felt so refreshing to release the pent-up anger and despair of the weekend in such an empowering environment.

A highlight of the morning for me was seeing an old lady with a sign reading "Hitler had a small penis too." She was standing so quietly. I thought it was so amusing, but I was so happy to see that because it showed such a sense that we're all in this together. The two hours I spent there passed much quicker than I'd anticipated.

Though I'm under no illusion that taking part in one or two marches is enough – nothing feels like enough in this moment – I do feel better for having made it out and will certainly be attending more over the coming months and years. Under President Trump's administration, convenience is a luxury we can no longer afford. Monday's protest pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I'll stay there for however long necessary.

Linh Nguyen is an English major. Her story has been edited.

Marsha Grout

The two things that one never wanted to talk about – politics and religion – I'm finding it's not so easy to stay on the fence. I've always said as a Canadian, as a woman, I would start marching when they banned abortion, when they banned gay marriage and when they brought back the death penalty. Those were my three big things which I thought were pretty safe. Then I started to watch what was going on in the United States. I knew I had to be there on that Saturday to be counted.

I went with my daughter. The moment I suggested it, she said yes. My only regret is that I didn't take my other daughter and my grandchildren and my son-in-law and my husband.

I just thought it was something we should do together. And we both feel that there will be many more times when we need to show up to be counted, absolutely.

I can't tell you how peaceful it was. There were tears and there were conversations and there were tons of fabulous signs. But for the most part, I'd turn and talk to women who had come in from Stratford. Everywhere I looked, there were a lot of young people, a lot of children, dogs, men.

I was so proud of Toronto. I was so proud of the numbers. We were so thrilled to be there. I was in awe of many of the speakers, many of the people who said what they did, whether they worked at the rape crisis centre or whether they were the first women with a hijab to be elected to the school board. I was so impressed.

It made me feel there is just so much more to do. It was my first, but I realized I can't let it be my last and that there are so many other things that I can do. I've changed a lot in the weeks since then. I've realized just voting isn't enough.

I didn't bring a sign. But we found some. One I found towards the end was a huge one. It was "Bullying" with a line through it. I carried it for a few blocks and when we got to City Hall I saw a child. I said, "I'd like to give you this sign." I asked her parents if it would be all right. I said, "I'm going to be leaving now but I see you're staying and I think you're the perfect person to hold this sign." And she said, "Thank you!"

We got to talk with a lot of people, laugh at a lot off signs.

It was just – it was beautiful. People were laughing. That coming together – I was wildly impressed.

I was just so pleased. I was pleased that I had done it, but I was particularly pleased that I had done it with my daughter.

Marsha Grout, 72, is a retired teacher and corporate trainer in Oakville, Ont.
– As told to Dave McGinn

This interview has been condensed and edited.

St. Stella

It started bubbling up in the news in my Facebook feed. It just started popping up – "Your friend is attending this" – and obviously, all my friends are attending, so it's going to come on your feed. It just felt obvious. Yes, of course I am going to do this thing.

It felt so visceral to me. The next day after I decided I was going to the march, I was at the doctor getting birth control and I didn't have to give that a second thought. This is just a thing I do. It costs me hardly any money. I just do it. The thought of that being potentially taken away is just so jarring.

It was just a gut feeling of "This is a thing that I have to do." I wasn't thinking, "Oh, I'm going to benefit because…" But I did so much benefit. The way I benefited was, "Oh my God, I have to show up more." I have to not just share stories on Facebook and talk about how I'm so liberal and whatever with my friends. That's easy.

It's the realization, I have to show up more to things I believe in but don't necessarily affect me.

Whether my tiny little footprint in that mass makes a difference, it does for me, and it does, I think, for my friends seeing me there, and then whoever else seeing them there. It's a ripple effect. It was massive and so inspiring and so diverse. It was so cool to see little kids with signs they had clearly made themselves.

I went with two girlfriends of mine. Along the route, we kept amalgamating with a bunch of friends so by the end, there were about 10 of us who knew each other – performers and different people from the burlesque, drag, queer community. We were this force of women of all shapes, sizes, colours, genders.

My friends and I, every few minutes we'd feel tears welling up. This is really intense. It was sort of church-like. Communion is a good word for it.

The things Trump started doing were such a direct attack on women that it just felt so personal. In the aftermath, you start to feel bad about, wow, it's kind of selfish that this is the first thing I've done because it so immediately affects me and people I know.

We saw some cops in riot gear and even the horses with the masks and we were like, "What did they think was going to happen here today? Did you really need to show up in your riot gear?"

The next one is going to be a science march, which I'm so behind.

I was always like, "What can I do? Can it really affect anything?" But this kind of flickered that light in you to not be idle. Once you've done it, it feels so important to be there, to show up.

If anything good comes out of this mess it's that more people have become woke, so to speak. We're all woke now. Everybody's eyes are open which is so amazing.

St. Stella, 34, is a burlesque performer in Toronto

– As told to Dave McGinn
This interview has been condensed and edited.

Jim McDonald

I was driving my common-law wife up to visit my stepdaughter in Toronto when I heard about the Women's March on the radio [on Jan. 21]. At first, I made note of it because it was more of a traffic situation for me. But I had the afternoon free, so I jumped at it.

I live with three women and I don't want to see them ever disrespected. Trump has a long track record of that. My reason for going – it was a culmination of all of his policies and the sheer arrogance that this man exhibits. The election – everybody is still gobsmacked by that. There's this kind of fear out there.

My partner and her daughters had other commitments that afternoon, so by myself, I joined the protest in Nathan Phillips Square. It was a very inclusive march, whether or not it was a women's march. There were a lot of guys there, a lot of families and a lot of the LGBT community. It crossed every part of the spectrum, you know, you could see professional people, people who were just starting out in life, senior citizens.

It was really something to see that many people come out. I would think, for [many of] the generations that were there, it was [reminiscent] of the Vietnam War. If you protest long enough, it's going to make a difference.

At the very least, I would hope [the marches] would embolden the Democratic Party down in the United States, because from what I've seen, they're not capable of forming an effective opposition. I think it also sends a message to Canada to reinforce that it's a different game up here – we don't play it that way. So I think our politicians also got a strong message, especially in the Conservative Party.

I would definitely join another protest march against Trump as long as he's in power.

Jim McDonald, 48, is a logistics co-ordinator for a mining equipment supply company, and lives in Yarker, Ont.

– As told to Adriana Barton