Notes On A Vigil
Her name was Renee Nicole Good and she was murdered by ICE
CW: Violence
Last night I went to a vigil for a women murdered by ICE, Renee Nicole Good. Hundreds of folks gathered around 7:30 p.m. in Fountain Square, the epicenter of Evanston. Makeshift signs were proudly held high: Abolish ICE, GET OUT, and more taunts aimed at the fascists in charge. Although Evanston is a campus town filled with twenty-somethings, the older generation was well represented. There were plenty of folks there that I imagine had been doing this since before I was born. Some politicans made an appearance as well, but thankfully none of them did speeches.
The woman that was murdered was 37, recently married, and according to community members, she moved to Minneapolis because she wanted a safe refuge from the Trump regime.
I can’t accurately describe the woman’s life in a few words, nor will I try.
But what is known about her is that she was a kind, gentle person. The type of person that wanted to play a part in protecting her community.
Renee Nicole Good was a legal observer, a volunter who used her last moments on earth to make sure her community was safe. She was the kind of women who kept stuffed animals in her dashboard. And I don’t know why or how it’s relevant but that last fact is what nearly broke me.
I’m no stranger to wanton violence, I’ve had my life threatened before for many reasons, protesting, speaking my mind, being black, etc… But still, reptition does not make me numb to it. I’ve refused to numb myself to the extreme violence that has become so common in our country because I’d like to retain my humanity, my softness, the part of me that can still cry when I see a teddy bear next to a bloodstained airbag.
Renee Nicole Good’s murder hits me particularly hard right now because I’ve spent a considerable amount of time these past few months doing the same thing she’s doing; working with my community to keep people safe from ICE. And while I understood that this type of community work could be dangerous, I can’t say I’m comfortable with the idea that I could lose my life for it. I don’t intend to be a martyr, nor a symbol for others. I’d like to live a long, comfortable life alongside those I love.
The vigil last night did not make me feel better. I never feel hopeful when a life is taken. I didn’t in 2020, and I don’t now.
However, what the vigil does do is it reminds me that I’m not alone in my feelings. It was a necessary reminder that Americans have not yet been fully anasthesized to the loss of life. It reminds me that while I may be hurt and pissed off and tired of these fascists, I’m not the only one.
Perhaps the only idea I can find hope or comfort in is that the end of the regime is inevitable. Everything dies, evil or otherwise. It may be in ten months, it may be in ten years, but at the very least I know it will end. I won’t make any predictions, nor hold my breath for that fateful day. Until then, I’ll continue to write and help out my community where I can.