On Monday afternoon, just as offices are starting to close and people are starting the commute home or the evening out, Ruvin stands near the center of
Millenium Park’s new pavilion... with a megaphone. She has to do this. Even if her hands are shaking when she brings the contraption to her lips, even if she's terrified of getting shot or blown up or kidnapped, she is going to do this.
She squeezes the button, takes a deep breath, and bells out over the crowd.
"My name is Ruvin. I am a wanderer, and there are some things that I need to say."
She repeats that, once, just to make sure those nearby heard her clearly. "...There are some things I need to say. About what happened at the end of last month. About the explosions during the CLF rally that did so much damage... About everything that happened after, that caused so much pain.”
She pauses, trying not to be alarmed at the number of people who have already stopped to stare. How many of them could be CLF? How many of them want to hurt her? She lowers the megaphone and scans the crowd. No movement, no open threats. They're listening. She needs to give them something to listen to.
“Are you afraid, Chicago? So am I." Her voice shakes, just a little. She's without the megaphone now, though there are enough people gathering that she might need to take it up again soon. "I know what it’s like. I know what it’s like to walk down the street and not know if... if the person coming toward you is someone who can or will hurt you. I’ve been followed. And I’ve been attacked, and hurt. My friends have too. Not because of who we are. But because of where we come from. Or... I suppose where we don’t. And I thought at first that fighting back was enough. That us fighting them was enough. But...”
She fumbles the megaphone back up, using the little handset to speak into it so she can still watch the crowd.
“My whole life, I’ve been taught the importance of order. Of balance and peace. And fighting doesn’t--I mean, it just... hurts people. All it does is hurt more people." She thinks of those candles, the people in the park, the pictures of the dead wanderers she never met, the photos and scenes of carnage on the news. "What happened that day was unacceptable. It was not the plan of many wanderers. It was the actions of a few, not condoned and not supported. We are like you, Chicago. We’re very like you.
"I know what it’s like to have the world you know, everything familiar and safe, torn away and turned on its head. To have things you didn’t think possible thrust upon you, whether you want them or not. To wish for a way back, I know what that’s like. To wish that things made sense again. And I know... that not all of you want this violence. I know not all of you want to see your city in pain. The same is true of us."
She clears her throat, and the sound goes through the megaphone in a scratchy throb. Her heartbeat feels almost feathery, it's so fast.
“But--here's the truth. It’s not just up to us to stop it. Your history has been made and remade by individuals who chose to stand up. To break down the veneer of justice and necessity put in place by those with power and will." She pauses, her expression hardening and her voice carrying a little further, a little more easily.
"The Chicago Liberation Front is just that. A front. A mask behind which the brutal, the hateful, the murderous can hide. A cloak that gives fear control over sense. A... cause, a purpose to which they can point when their methods are questioned, when we pause to remember that they have killed children. Killed the innocent and the uninvolved.
"I’ll ask you this, Chicago. What is it they are trying to do? Cleanse us? Purify the city? What does that mean? Look into your history. When has hate, the brutalization or imprisonment of the hated, made things better? The Trail of Tears? World War Two? The disasters in Africa, of which I’ve read since coming here, or the Balkans, which an ang… a wanderer who witnessed them told me about."
Another breath. This is starting to feel good. She's still shaking, her heartbeat is still vibrating in her bones, but she believes this. If they'll only listen.
"When, then, has rallying together, seeking peace and change, made things better? Across the history of this country, of this world, it is the movement of people like you that has changed the landscape of what is right and acceptable. Who is acceptable."
"Who are you, Chicago. It’s time for you to choose. Are you chaos wearing the façade of justice, or are you possibility? We... All of us. All of you, all of the wanderers here. We can change things. We can. We can make this city a home for all. We can make this city thrive. I want to. There are things... Things here that I love. People that I love."
She lowers the megaphone, just a bit, so she can look at their faces. She's not going back. She's not going to see Tula again. This is it. This is where she lives now. "Chicago. You're beautiful. I want to make this place my home. And I want to share it with you."