As tired businessmen and tourists made their way through Penn Station to catch trains home, my family and I made our way in the opposite direction.
Leaving Penn Station, we began walking uptown, dodging vendors, tourists and endless streams of people on our journey to Times Square. As the walk progressed, I found myself behind an older-looking Jewish couple: he, wearing tzitzit over an everyday shirt, she, adorned in a multi-colored scarf. This couple became my beacon of light, and, as I felt my younger sister anxiously squeeze my hand, we followed them deeper into the city’s throng-filled streets.
Greeted by the whirring sights and sounds of Times Square, we kept walking. We walked past the wax figures of Madame Tussaud’s, past tourists gesturing wildly, past a raffle submission for tickets to see Aladdin on Broadway. As we neared the intersection of 42nd and 7th, the streets became more densely packed, and it was difficult to walk without bumping into someone. As protestors chanted “close the street!” from the crowded sidewalks, a woman instructed us to continue walking around the block to a less crowded space, as the sidewalks were too densely populated. It was a little after 5:30 pm on Wednesday, July 22nd.
Finding an opening within the mass to stand together with my family, I began to orient myself. We were about a block away from the stage; a few feet away from us was a massive speaker that was projecting the rally speeches to the crowds further back. Printed signs were held aloft declaring, “No nukes for Iran!” and “Don’t trust Iran!” Another, declaring “No Nuke Deal With Islamist Iran,” was hand-written with marker on posterboard. There were businessmen who had stopped by after work, whole families like ourselves and a red-shirt-wearing group that had traveled by bus all the way from Columbus, Ohio, to join in the rally. I made out a few familiar faces in the crowd: a friend from college, a hometown friend’s parents and an elderly couple that we had spent this past Pesach with, clad in blue and white.
Unable to see the video screen from our spot on the street and having difficulty hearing from the speakers, a few of us took to watching the livestream of the rally on our smartphones. As tour buses and taxis drove by on the streets, people waved their signs high. Former Governor of NY and presidential candidate George Pataki made his rounds through the crowd after his speech, shaking hands with those closest to the metal barricades that blocked the crowd off from entering the street. One speaker led the crowd in a chant: “Where is Chuck? Kill this Deal!” to which the crowd responded enthusiastically.
The overarching feeling I took from the rally was pride. Not only because of the sheer amount of people that showed up to the rally, with over 10,000 people filling the streets of Times Square on a typical Wednesday summer night, in what is perhaps the greatest demonstration of true democracy, but also because of the sense of camaraderie and friendship that was felt amongst the people in the crowd. We instantly befriended a woman and her two children who stood next to us, and I witnessed one man carrying a hefty package of water bottles that he was distributing to the policemen who stood watch during the rally. People greeted old friends and made new ones as they stood alongside one another. The unity that was felt was not limited to our joint cause; it extended far beyond that to the way fellow ralliers behaved towards one another. In the midst of the tension of the impending Iran Deal and an atmosphere of mourning because of the Nine Days, I found it empowering that Jews and non-Jews alike came together in one strong and powerful voice.
By Esther Hirsch
