Having missed the Freiburg vibe for a while now, I decided to join the 'March for Justice' last Saturday: a protest that both demonstrated solidarity with victims of rape and that demanded the codification of sex without consent as rape rather than "sexual interaction against will" in Dutch law. The decision to join was rather spontaneous - I had only heard about the protest march the night before over a beer and Black Mirror night with friends. But I immediately knew that it was exactly what I needed: a few hours away from books, papers, and assignments, and literally standing up for what I believe in, defying the cold and neatly distanced from the others.
I spend 20 minutes piecing the perfect all-black outfit together (I don't usually wear black with black, so I had to get creative), and I went to study at the Coffeelovers close to where the protest would start (my internet is still broken, so the latter was especially convenient). I was ready and I was excited.
And then I started the readings for my courses. I watched the clock hands on my watch creep closer and closer to 4pm, when the protest would start, and nervously peeked at my to-do list. Maybe I could join a bit later? A quick glance outside at 4pm told me that I could still take a while - people were still joining.
Half an hour later, I peeked outside again. The protest had filled up and was in full swing. Maybe I can finish one more reading before I go? I'll join the end! Again half an hour later, I woke up from my readings when the March for Justice finally started marching. Amazingly quickly, the group of people passed the window I was sitting behind and made their way. Where to? I didn't know.
Knowing this to be a now-or-never situation, I jumped up, packed my things, grabbed my Chai Latte, and ran outside. But the group of people I should have been a part of was nowhere to be found anymore. I ran in the direction I saw the march disappearing towards and looked around. Only after minutes of desperate looking, I found a faint shadow of the group disappearing in the distance. Again, I ran after them. Once I caught up, I quickly glanced at the signs, not wanting to accidentally protest the wrong thing.
Only once I joined the March for Justice did I realise the importance of it. I realised only when I stood quietly on the Square 1992, listening to the stories, to the music, that I was getting lost in those things I got lost in before I left for Freiburg one year ago: deadlines, assignments, understanding every single reading to its full depth. All important things, of course. But not the only important things in life.
Jesler van Houdt