...but they all hate the war

To celebrate the anniversary of the Iraq invasion, protests were organized all over the U.S. Of course, there was one in San Francisco, a mile from my apartment in the UN Plaza. It was interesting, because it became a catch all for any protest - labor rights, animal awareness, anti - war. A tourist asked a cop what people were protesting.

"He's protesting the Westin hotels, he thinks the US should monitor a no fly zone in Libya, she wants to people to be vegan, that man there wants the government to prosecute the banks." He pointed to signs. "But they all hate the war."

It was an eclectic group - many demographics were represented. The typical dread locked hippie was there, but there were also a surprising number of normal folks. Students who looked like my little sisters in fur uggs, moms with families, veterans and musicians. Even amidst all the types, I felt out of place at first, no friend to chat with or boyfriend to stand next to. My only interactions were with a woman who complained that the rain was ruining her picture taking abilities - then she thanked me for letting her complain. Another two women asked if they could hide under my umbrella to exchange e-mails, which was really awkward because then they finished their conversation right under my umbrella space without any acknowledgment of me. And another man complimented my zebra rain boots (which incidentally are really ugly). As we marched on though, I began to feel much more connected, like I also had a right to be there as well. The reason many people were normal because normal people have been affected by all of these things. Some of the younger men had been in the war and had changed their position since returning. A mom had lost her son in the battle. I thought about my dad, and even though I can't picture him holding a sign marching downtown, he has every right to demand that the banks share their bailout. As a man who has played by the rules all his life, he is losing to the system right now as well.

If you're wondering how a protest ends, I can tell you. It ends with a woman on her loud speaker saying the protest is now over.