Opinion: Los Verdes, a Fourth-Grader, and the Power of Protest

On June 25, moments before kickoff for Austin FC vs. FC Dallas, the supporters' group at Q2 Stadium staged a poignant protest in the south end of our stadium. The green and black flags and festive banners were replaced by 21 sobering, white poster boards with the name of each of the victims of the Uvalde school shooting.

The protest was powerful and thought-provoking. But as is with much of life, the ball soon rolled around on the pitch, the beer started flowing, and by morning life had picked up its pace, leaving Uvalde in my rearview mirror.

Two weeks later, in the midst of a blissful family vacation in Boston, my 10-year-old daughter Alicia interrupted whatever we were distracted with and asked me about the protest.

"Dad, do you remember those white posters that were raised in the supporters' section before the last Austin FC game we went to?"

"Yeah, Alicia, what about 'em?"

"Well, whose names were on those posters?"

My throat gulped. My brain bucked up, I could almost feel it tilting forward up against my forehead – attentive, firing intensely to prepare a response and get ready for a challenging conversation.

"Those were the names of the victims of the Uvalde school shooting."

"That's what I thought," she said, exhibiting that acute ability she has to perceive what goes on around her.

What I didn't tell Alicia was that despite the fact that there were 21 names displayed, I could only focus on one:

ALITHIA

The name of one of those fourth-grade victims was just like the name of mine. Perhaps she was a soccer fan, just like mine. Perhaps she had that very uncanny ability to shine a light on what's important, just like mine.

ALICIA

I'm sure my Alicia saw it too. God knows what went through her little 10-year-old brain as she saw her name in the supporters' section. Perhaps she thought she had won some sort of fan contest. Perhaps she was critical of a misspelling of her own name, or curious about a spelling she had never seen. I wonder how long it took for the sobering truth to sink in, the unfair reality of being a fourth-grader in Texas.

We usually sit together for Austin FC games, but for that game we got lucky and scored some extra tickets. Alicia sat with her aunt and uncle, while my wife and I sat in a different section. We experienced the protest separately and never had a chance to discuss it as a family. Perhaps I shied away from the conversation as a coping mechanism. In my defense, our vacation started the next morning and I embraced the long list of Clark Griswold trip-planning tasks ahead of me.

Only Alicia could bring me back to that powerful moment and remind me of the importance of that tragic event.

I took advantage of the conversation to teach her about the power of protest. Despite two weeks of distractions and hundreds of miles of distance, that simple act of protest cut through the bubble of our lives and helped us resist the comforting inertia of preoccupying ourselves with the mundane. I encouraged her to think of ways she can help others resist that temptation and insist on action and change.

She's way ahead of the game. Her reminder was a valuable wake-up call for me.

I'm sharing as a small step away from convenient denial and into action. I hope in some way that Alicia can have the same impact on you.

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Miguel Fernández is a Puerto Rican entrepreneur living in Austin since 2014. He currently serves as board chair for the Kinesis Foundation and on the board of the Austin Bat Cave. He resides with his wife, two children, and Shih Tzu in Zilker. You can find him listening to comedy, cheering at Austin FC games, and basking in the glamour of being a soccer dad.