A March Toward Hope
by Clarice Knelly
Montreal erupted. People poured out of corners of the city I didn’t know existed. Green flashes climbed light posts and traffic lights. The young and old collected together at the feet of the Cartier statue as his image loomed over the park. As Bixi bikes pulled up along the field, droves of people began to collect in the remaining patches of the heavily crowded field. French chants and drum beats echoed off the buildings and statues surrounding Parc Jeanne-Mance where the march began. Avenue du Parc was shut down, along with other main roads, as half a million people left their prior commitments to march toward their hope, Greta Thunburgh.
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I was in awe of the sheer number of people that had dedicated a day of their life to dress up and march for miles toward the hope they believe is out there. I was in the middle of half a million other people. I wondered if I would ever be in a crowd this size again. I also wondered if this day even mattered. My critical, cynical mind wondered if the people marching thought that it would create change. I wanted to believe their cries for change would become tangible laws, but in this world, it is hard to have hope. However, there are certain people in even the most bleak circumstances that are able to start a movement that spans nations and generations. Looking out at the sea of people, young and old, I could see that maybe there was a hope that Greta was creating. Maybe there is a change possible.
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After having these thoughts circulate in my mind, I turned my attention back to the streets. Several demonstrations and protests were happening off the beaten path of the marching. The McGill University’s student organization Climate Justice Action, CJAM, protested on the steps of the Arts Building. They urged people not to go to class and for Mcgill to listen to their demands they have curated in hopes of combating the climate crisis. Other groups gathered on top of apartment buildings and danced to their boomboxes as the thousands marching below cheered. Hand-painted earths and flowers covered brick walls and storefronts.
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Just across the street from the statue, an older woman sat on a simple set of stairs that was crowded with eager people awaiting their place in the march. Her sign intrigued me, so I asked her name. Debbie was also originally from Montreal, but now she resides in San Diego. She came from California for the climate strike. She was driven by her worry for her children and grandchildren. She feared we were too close to the “tipping point.” She admitted she was losing hope in the provincial and federal level of our government. To her, the highlight of the event was Greta who, to her, represents hope.
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Back on the main road of Avenue du Parc, the rowdy, cumbersome crowd shifted onto Avenue Sherbrooke. Stilt walkers, drummers, and chanters entertained. The sound of the drummers was loud and rhythmic. The powerful beats were oddly comforting as they rang in my ear. The smell of Jamaican meat pies consumed the minds of hungry people and pulled them off the streets. Aromas of pizza dough baking convinced others to remove themselves from the march. People hopped in and out of local cafes and cheap pizzeria shops to sustain their journey to the end of the march. Children clung on to their parents’ shoulders and people proudly hoisted their witty, empowering, and occasionally crude signs high above the crowd. People climbed lampposts and traffic light poles to be higher than anyone else. Winding around city streets, with police surrounding the mass, the crowd finally arrived at its destination.
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At the end of the march, a small stage awaited in a patch of greenery. 500,000 gathered where the Bonaventure Expressway normally empties a monstrous amount of cars into the city. People continued to chant and elevate their signs. When Greta came on the stage around 4 pm, nearly four hours after the march officially began, the crowd erupted. Each sentence she spoke seemed to move the audience and lift their spirits after a very long walk. She said that Canada reminded her of her home, Sweden. She compared both countries being alleged climate leaders and showed how they are both doing too little. She presented scary statistics and accused international leaders of “Empty words.”
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As she announced, “change is coming,” people cried and screamed. Yearning for a change for so long, many people are beginning to see it on the horizon because of Greta. I felt something in me shift as a little girl stood up in front of the biggest crowd I had ever been in and condemned nations and their leaders. It was powerful, and now I understood why people came. It was astonishing to see such a small girl captivate people of any race, gender, sexual orientation, or political background. Maybe it comes after seeing how she maturely handles being mocked by prominent political and media talking heads. Maybe it is because young people see themselves in her, and older people see their children in her. Maybe it is because she stands for science at a time it is more crucial to believe in than ever. Whatever the reason, she represents hope; and people need hope.