We navigated the paths packed down by people ahead of us, the freezing wind whipping across the open green. It was dark and cold but we could see our goal: a huddle of over a hundred people, a constellation of candles gathered around a small podium and speakers. We first swung by the Food Not Bombs table to snag extra hand warmers and hot coffee before lighting our own candles and joining the group. The speakers, healthcare workers, students, and immigrants, were difficult to hear over the wind, but the sight of the community here warmed my heart. My community member, Molly Vankat, and I attended a vigil in the memory of Alex Pretti. Alex Pretti, a nurse in Minneapolis, had been shot and killed by ICE agents during the general strike there the week before.

I have been deeply involved in social justice activism over the past few years in New England. Settling into work at my service site, Lydia’s House, in Cincinnati took a couple of months. Returning from a brief home visit over the winter, my passion for social justice was reignited and I sought out Ignite Peace – another MVC service site I initially considered. Through them I learned about an upcoming event: a rally downtown protesting ICE operations in Minneapolis following the murder of Renee Nicole Good. Hundreds of people attended, and there I made connections with other social justice organizations in the city such as Food Not Bombs, the Immigrant Dignity Coalition, and other communities doing active social justice work in Cincinnati.

When Food Not Bombs hosted their first meal in Norwood, just a few blocks from our house, Molly and I swung by to grab a bite and I helped host their harm reduction table for some time. There I remembered just how fulfilling social justice work was in my life. Of course, my work at Lydia’s House is in the category of social justice, but as someone who primarily cares for the children of our guests, I sometimes find it difficult to feel close with the parents compared to volunteers who drive a single mother to a court appearance or help her update her resume for a job application. So, standing there, in the cold, handing out first aid kits and Naloxone, I felt a familiar joy of directly serving my community.

There is a lot of turmoil and injustice in the world and there is a temptation to despair. I cannot personally convince politicians to change harmful policies. I cannot protect innocents from harm an ocean away. I cannot put an end to inhumane and cruel wars and genocides.

What I can do is address the injustices within my reach. I can roll down the car window and hand the stranger on the street some spare change. I can sign up to drive groceries to immigrant families too afraid to leave their homes. I can invite my community members, who have never attended a vigil before, to join me on a freezing January night to be present with our wider community in mourning, in anger, and in desiring justice.

At the vigil, there was a person next to me who had brought a candle stick. Being on the outskirts of the huddle, the wind would repeatedly extinguish the flame, and they struggled to relight it with un-gloved hands in the bitter cold. So, I offered to let them relight their candle from our candle every time the wind stole their light. And I feel like that moment, that act, is a summation of how I want to approach social justice. I feel on fire with a desire for justice when I see our world today. But my fire alone won’t suffice. I need to share it to ignite the hearts of others, and together, we can light our way to a better world.

Erin Reilly: Cincinnati, Ohio