Belonging Without Fear

In the week since Border Patrol officers killed Alex Pretti, a Veterans Affairs ICU nurse, in Minnesota during a peaceful protest, vigils across the country have honored Pretti’s life and his act of standing up for another person. Many of these gatherings have also raised concerns about the growing risks faced by ordinary citizens who intervene when others are being harmed.

On Sunday evening, February 1, as VA Medical Centers nationwide hosted outdoor vigils, Westford residents gathered online for a virtual community vigil centered on a simple but powerful truth: “No one should have to disappear to belong.” About 40 people registered for the event, with more than a dozen community members attending live.

Organizers chose a virtual format out of community care and consideration. A recent two-foot snowstorm had left Westford’s town center with limited safe standing space and extremely constrained nearby parking. In response to community requests for a vigil, organizers balanced the desire to gather publicly with the responsibility to prioritize participant safety, accessibility, and well-being. While virtual, the gathering carried a strong sense of shared presence, as participants joined from their homes to pause, reflect, and bear witness together.

The vigil was organized in response to recent events in Minnesota that have left many people across the country feeling unsettled, grieving, and uncertain about what it means to care for one another in this moment in American history.

Facilitated by Cathy Ricketson of the Westford Democratic Committee, Beth Morrison of Indivisible Westford, and Wendy Gloyd of Westford LGBTQ+ Friends & Allies, with reflections offered by Rev. Becca Lockwood of First Parish Church United, the vigil was intentionally structured as a moderated, compassionate space. Participants were invited to engage in whatever way felt right to them — listening quietly, keeping cameras on when possible, lighting a candle, or sharing a few words — with no pressure to speak or perform.

Rev. Lockwood opened the evening by naming the heaviness many are carrying and reminding participants that showing up for one another, even quietly, is an act of connection. “We are not the first in history to face moments of fear or injustice,” she shared. “And we will continue to learn from the past as we build something better together.”

The program wove together poetry, silence, and a brief grounding meditation, offering space for participants to settle their bodies and breath. A poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer invited listeners to imagine holding their own frightened hearts — and one another’s — with tenderness and care.

In a reflection on belonging, Westford resident Wendy Gloyd spoke about the familiar idea of America as a “melting pot,” and how many people were taught that fitting in required compliance, silence, or minimizing difference. She contrasted that with a vision of community more like a “salad bowl,” where distinct cultures, stories, and identities are not erased, but valued.

“In a salad bowl,” she shared, “nothing has to disappear to belong.”

Gloyd also reflected on how moments of injustice often ask ordinary people to make small, human choices — whether to look away, or to stand up for one another — and how those choices shape who we are as a community.

Several participants shared brief, impromptu reflections during the vigil. Some spoke of grief and fear; others of exhaustion, anger, or uncertainty. Immigrant community members described how painful it has been to feel that the promise that once drew them to the United States — opportunity, safety, and a place at the table — is slipping out of reach. Despite that fear, many expressed a growing resolve to speak up and care for others, even when it feels risky, because it feels morally necessary.

Later in the program, Rev. Lockwood offered a reflection grounded in the Celtic observance of Imbolc — the midpoint between winter and spring — describing the moment as a threshold. “Change is stirring,” she said, “even if we can’t yet see it. The question is: what are we nurturing together?”

The vigil concluded with a candle-lighting ritual, a shared song, and a closing refrain spoken together by the group:

We are here, with our city.
Our love for each other will carry us through.
No one should have to disappear to belong.

As participants logged off, facilitators invited everyone to take gentle care of themselves and reminded them that community does not end when the Zoom window closes.

At a time when many are questioning what America is — and who it is for — Sunday night’s vigil offered something simple but essential: a reminder that care, conscience, and human connection still matter, and that Westford remains a place where people are willing to show up for one another.

Nonviolent — but not quiet.