Aishwarya, age 16 helped start the Not In Our School program at Normal Community High school and she is a member of Not In Our Town Bloomington Normal Group
The black smoke that engulfed us was thick and dirty. I instinctively held my breath while identifying the deep pain in my mother’s eyes. The driver sped off, quickly leaving us in the smoke. I needed a moment to register what had just happened. This man, another human being, my fellow countrymen, had done this on purpose. His goal, like many others, was to get a rise from us: make us want to put our anti-racism signs and Not In Our Town banner down. He wanted to divert us with his insult. He wanted to send us home; little did he know that we were already home. Bloomington, IL. is my town, my haven, my home, and no one has the right to take that away from me.
On Sunday March 13th, Donald Trump arrived in Bloomington, IL. on his alleged $100 million dollar private jet. The night before, I had decided to join the peaceful protest with NIOT members to show our community that hatred and bullying have no place in Bloomington. Donald Trump’s constant appeals to the fear and frustrations Americans face have opened doors such as racism and bigotry back in our free world. As a student watching all the mayhem the Republican frontrunner has created, I knew I couldn’t be a bystander. I had to act. My voice had to be heard. Nothing would have prepared me for the experiences and political gander I endured that day.
Braving the rain was a challenge every protester encountered. As my hair stuck to my face and my energy and spirits soared, the cold kept my emotions in check. Around thirty to forty members from Not In Our Town were silently protesting outside Trump’s rally headquarters. The silence was extremely excruciating, but I knew NIOT is nonpartisan and we were there to end hate, not create more.
Time passed as I held my anti-racism poster, and as the traffic started to pick up all the action began. Supporters of our message would honk, give us a thumbs up sign, or talk to us from their windows. Trump’s advocates weren’t as kind. As a sixteen year old American with Indian parents I had never faced this much hate in my young life. As they drove by, middle fingers raised telling us to “go home,” I was deeply shocked by the realities of racism and hatred that exist in today’s world.
When Trump arrived, I was ready to greet him with my message of defiance and protest. I left the NIOT protesters to check out the “Dump Trump” rally as it gained momentum. An elderly woman that was holding a “Make America Great Again” sign called my friends the “N- word” out loud. This is evidence that Trump’s campaign is uplifting racism in our country by allowing strangers to use such evil and derogatory language. Later, I found myself trapped in a huddle of his supporters. I knew I was entering a dangerous zone, a place my mother warned me of numerous times the night before. Though I was stuck in their huddle and cheers, I would not stay quiet. I knew if I was passive or ignored their hateful chants I was indirectly accepting Trump’s message to our country. Quick to act, I began screaming anti-Trump chants such as, “Love Trumps Hate” as loud as I could. Dazed and confused that a protestor had entered their pack, a man around sixty-years-old shouted, “Go back to your country.” At first, I was shocked to hear such a cruel comment directed towards me. Never in my life has someone had the audacity to say such a racist and hateful thing to my face. My reaction could be considered controversial; I started laughing because the joke was on him. I was born in OSF Saint Joseph Hospital a mile away from the protest, and here this stranger was trying to tell me to “go back.” The irony of it all was too much for me, so I began laughing to let out my anger and frustration. Another woman nearby heard my obnoxious laughter and tried saying something. Before she could open her mouth I gave the group a dazzling smile and walked away.
Trump later called all protesters “thugs” and “Bernie supports,” but we were simply there to exercise our right to peacefully protest to end his tyranny of hate. By appealing to radical voters, Trump has driven a wedge through our country, causing an eruption of discrimination and bigotry on our soil.
While walking back to my car I found a sticker on the ground that said “I love white people.” I love my white brothers and sisters, but loving a single race is baffling. Never had I imagined something this spiteful could be printed as a sticker to wear as a sick sign of pride or honor. I picked the sticker up off the ground and ripped it to shreds. Something that vile does not belong on the soil of our free nation. It was in that moment I vowed to make a difference, to change something and make my voice heard. My goal as a student is to emphasize how our voice matters, and though some of us can't vote, we need to be heard because we are the next generation.