Peaceful Protest

“Music is a universal language speaking heart to heart, its own United Nations and global peace treaty, wafting melodies and lyrics across continents, into kitchens and parliaments, no passport, no visa, no security check needed.”   Susan Allison, PhD

Dear Friends,

It’s Saturday morning, October 18th. I walk briskly through quiet neighborhoods toward San Lorenzo Park in downtown Santa Cruz. The air feels alive—charged with purpose. As I walk, I practice the lyrics of the songs I’ll sing with the Santa Cruz Peace Chorale, a volunteer group devoted to spreading peace and social justice through music. https://santacruzpeacechorale.org/  

With each step, my voice rises with inspiration: “Be good to the people. Be good to the people. Be good to the people you love. And love everybody alive.”

As I near the park, my pace slows. I’ve joined a growing current of folks—walking, pushing strollers, pedaling bikes, some in wheelchairs—all moving together. The park is alive, packed to its edges with more than 15,000 people. Inflatable frogs and dinosaurs bob above the crowd. Homemade signs are held in hands—colorful expressions of outrage, humor, and hope, scenes at the “No Kings” rally and march protesting the Trump administration.

I weave through the crowd, crossing the narrow footbridge toward Pacific Avenue, thick with people flowing in the opposite direction. Finally, I reach our designated corner—just in front of where the old Cooper House once stood. I pause remembering how in the 1970s I danced to the sounds of Warmth, a local jazz band, my youthful body swaying on this very sidewalk all of those years ago. The Cooper House was damaged in the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake and later torn down, but its spirit still lingers. Being here—now a grandmother with decades of memories—I feel the heartbeat of this place. Once again, I’m here, this time not through dance but through song.

Only a few months ago, I began singing regularly and joined the Chorale just last month. I never expected my life to turn this way, but singing has filled me with a kind of joy that I didn’t know I was missing. Singing, I’ve discovered, opens doors—and sometimes entire worlds.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with other Chorale members, our voices rise—not in anger, but in harmony. This is my first time attending a rally as part of a choir, and I feel something powerful shifting inside me. In a world that can feel fractured by conflict and noise, singing together in peaceful protest becomes an act of unity. When we sing in protest, we are not fighting against something. We are standing for something: For dignity. For justice. For the belief that change is still possible—through empathy, through courage, through shared humanity.

I’m reminded that peace begins within us. It’s born of listening and the willingness to be part of something larger than ourselves.
And so we sing:
“This is what democracy looks like.”
“Make good trouble.”
“Everybody’s got a right to live!”

Our music ripples out across the crowd, soft yet strong. Each note becomes a thread in a larger fabric of resistance woven from love. The truth resonates deep in my bones. When we raise our voices together, peace isn’t just a dream we hope for. It’s a song we create—one breath, one note, one heart at a time.