I went to an exhibit of black and white photos in our local Montague library, all depicting some of the demonstrations that have taken place since the 2024 election. They showed women dressed as Lady Liberty, the sun shining on their beaming faces. They captured many of the demonstrators’ emotions: sorrow, anger, resolve, and determination.

But it was the photo above, taken by photographer Jon-Marc Seimon, a recent neighbor, that captured my deepest attention. It hung, behind the librarian’s desk (it’s a small village library) and she invited me to step behind her desk for a better look. Several days later, I returned to look at it again.

See the American flag furled so that the stripes seem to go both horizontally and vertically against the sharp black background of the white stars? See the ghostly tree branches, so hauntingly aberrant in a daytime scene? See the sun spotlight the flag and almost nothing else? See the person (man? woman?) in dark jacket and a hoodie?

The scene seems downright gothic though it takes place in daytime, doesn’t it? Will the person holding the big flag suddenly put it down, open his/her jacket, take out an AR-15 and massacre everyone in the park? The sunglasses and dark wear seem to purposely hide their identity. Lower down, the others in the photo are sociably engaged, but the person and the flag stand starkly up front, dwarfing everyone and everything else, making daily intercourse seem silly and irrelevant.

Each time I look at this photo a new story comes to mind. So many different possibilities of what that flag stands for, who are the people who wave it, and why.

I’ve mentioned in a previous post how, at the first No-Kings rally that I attended in Northampton, in which a few thousand people participated, there were numerous Palestinian and rainbow flags, and not one American flag other than one draped down the side of the Academy of Music building, probably done by that institution. There was terrific music (especially drumming) and a Donald Trump impersonator who entertained folks from the steps of one of the Main Street galleries, while speaker after speaker, representing one constituency after another, tried to make their grievances heard through an overwhelmed speaker system.

In the middle of all that, not one person (Including me) held up an American flag. If a Martian had landed there, there was nothing to tell our new friend that this was about one indivisible country, a nation comprised of different groups–and still one nation.

But the news must have gone out, because by the time the second No-Kings rally took place—this time I went to Greenfield—many people held American flags, including Lori and me. A friend told me that in Dalton, they had been instructed to bring flags with them. Women dressed as Lady Liberty and different versions of stars and stripes were evident.

And yet, I am haunted by this photo. What are the feelings of progressive activists towards this flag right now? Do they have any feelings towards it, other than ambivalent shrugs and indifference? At times you hear the complaint that the right wing of this country has usurped the flag for its own purposes, but i think that those of us on the other side handed it over to them.

A registered Democrat for most of my life, I recently changed to Independent. Why? Because I don’t find myself any longer in this two-party system. Around me, people are upset about one man, Donald Trump, who’s destroying so much. I also get angry at his party, especially those in the Congress, many of whom know better (they don’t suffer from his narcissistic disorder) but lack the will and courage to stop supporting him.

I reserve much of my irritation for the party I’ve called home for so long, just like you take your family’s actions to heart over others’. By now, with such opponents, they should be soaring high in polls; there shouldn’t be a question in most American minds about immediately voting in people who will resist the self-aggrandizing and self-enriching autocrat in the White House.

But the party I used to call home isn’t soaring at all. Yes, it may be getting back some Latino and African American voters, but it’s not roaring back like a much-missed, yearned-for mother ready to do battle to protect her children.

Fingers are pointed: We were too woke; we were too arrogant and self-righteous; we didn’t listen—and as a result, we lost the working class. We certainly lost the rural class long ago.

I resonate with a few of these opinions. We continue to be a party of entrenched party leaders who won’t give up control. Neither Hakeem Jeffries nor Chuck Schumer, who can hardly wait to be majority leaders in the House and Senate respectively, inspires me in any way. I can’t forget that 2024 summer, when misgivings over Joe Biden’s candidacy were spreading like wildfire and the Democratic convention was delayed due to the Olympics, they and party leaders conspired to nominate Biden remotely instead of waiting for the convention and thus put a stop to all resistance .

And the party continues to be old! It continues to rely on purity tests. In the primary for Massachusetts senator, I voted for Seth Moulton rather than the incumbent Senator Ed Markey. “How could you vote for a man who said he didn’t want trans girls playing sports with his daughter?” people demanded.

“Because he’s 47,” I replied. “I don’t check off items on some purity test. And if we’re serious about having active and innovative leadership, what are we doing voting for an 80-year-old starting a 6-year term?”

What’s ironic is that when I sit down face to face with someone to explain why I could entertain a ban on abortion in the last trimester (does that mean I’m not a feminist?) or why I’m not sure about trans women participating in sports, I often hear that they’re not sure about those things, either. They admit that they can certainly see another viewpoint. Again and again I find a lot more patience and nuance in individual thinking, which gives us more in common with others, though you’d never guess it from the stances of the parties themselves and the vitriol on social media.

How do I vote for a party that wouldn’t publicize its own findings about what went wrong in 2024, when it lost the two chambers of Congress and the White House? Why were they so afraid? And how responsive is it to massive donations and the power lobbies? Perhaps not like the man currently in the White House, but they are still part of the same system.

Most important, how do I stay inside a party that has stayed away from its own flag for so long? Yes, we’ve failed many groups of people, but is that the end of the story? What about the one body called the American people? What about unity of purpose?

When people see the American flag, do they only think of broken promises? I am sensitive to that, especially to people left to fend for themselves, including the 750,000 recently thrown off Obamacare. But broken promises are also a reflection of huge aspirations; in fact, the possibility, even probability, of disappointment always accompanies big aspirations.

 I take Buddhist vows to ameliorate the suffering of all beings. Am I fulfilling them? I fall far short. Does that mean that the vows themselves are wrong? In reciting those vows, I put a rakusu on my head, a folded lay practitioner’s robe, and with that I embrace a 2500-year-old lineage. Am I a fraud? Is the lineage going back to the first Buddha a fraud? Those ancestors committed themselves body and soul to the enlightenment of all, and still there is suffering. So should I throw away that small piece of clothing? Burn it?

Have I failed? Should I never put that robe on, even as it encapsulates my deepest hope and love?