May 3, 1971
The White House
Washington, D.C., United States
Sixty years ago, suffragettes marched on the White House for civil rights. Thirty years ago, African Americans did the same. The hard-fought justice that resulted from these protests created a far fairer and far better American society.
Today's protest was something entirely new and terrifying. White picket signs paraded down Pennsylvania Avenue in a seemingly never-ending flow.
BRING THE TROOPS HOME NOW!
Vietnam for the Vietnamese—LET'S GET OUT!
Remember: "Thou shalt not kill"
Resist The Draft
HELL NO—DON'T GO
President Nixon appeared beside me at the window. He peeked through the curtains with squinted eyes, mumbling his surprise that the protesters had made it until noon. I wanted to rip the curtains wide open. I wanted to throw the doors open and push him onto the balcony.
Never before had a war been so fiercely opposed by the American people, and never before had their leader cared so little.
"Mr. President, this is gravely serious," I began in a voice trembling with emotion. I crossed my arms and shook my head. "We cannot go on like this."
He glanced at me. "What would you have me do, madam? We can't cave to these punks and hippies."
My fingernails dug painfully into the palms of my hands. I momentarily closed my eyes in an attempt to compose myself. When I opened them, his attention had returned to the window.
"Mr. President," I snapped.
His eyes darted to my face.
I swallowed down my anger as best as I could. "Call an emergency Cabinet meeting," I told him calmly.
He clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed by my meddling. "Sure thing."
My eyes followed him out of the room. Like with many Presidents before him, my dislike for him grew by the day. The country needed a strong leader to weather the dark times in which we found ourselves. Richard Nixon was not that leader.
Clawed by uncertainty, I bit my nails as I continued to watch the protest.
~
A/N: Would you have protested the Vietnam War?
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