My parents took me to my first antiwar demonstration when I was three years old.

The sign I insisted on creating was a nonsensical series of rashly painted strokes that I was inordinately proud of. It was a poor mimicry of my parents much more heart felt slogans. This wasn’t abstract for them, not an exercising of some vague democratic right. This was their personal mission to prevent others having to flee their homes. I thank them for bringing me to this country and for showing me the way to let my leftest heart express itself from the earliest years of my life. I am enjoying sharing this with my own daughter, there is still so much to protest.