Women in Black stand for peace, even when they stand alone

And after 60 minutes of quiet reflection, they hold hands, voice their first names, say “peace,” and walk away.

Drive down Fourth Avenue in downtown Olympia between 5 and 6 p.m. Fridays and you will see them lined up facing north toward Budd Inlet from near the Heritage Park fountain. There were more than 70 women there on the eve of the war in Iraq in March 2003, far fewer after Barack Obama was elected president in 2008.

They are the Women in Black, Olympia’s contribution to a world-wide network of women committed to peace in a world wracked by violence.

Many passersby honk or wave in support. But there have been times, especially in the early days of the Iraqi invasion, when they were confronted with jeers, obscene gestures and threats.

“I remember one guy who drove by, then circled back around, a pistol pointed at the roof of his white van,” said Carolyn Peterson, a First United Methodist Church of Olympia pastor who was drawn to the group in 2003 by the drum beats of war in the Middle East.

“I just hate violence against women and children,” Peterson said, explaining why she stands. “And I like the fact it is a silent vigil — a time for self-reflection and prayer.”

There have been times, a snowy Christmas night in 2008 comes to mind, when Peterson, 65, was the only woman there.

The same can be said of Joan Lynch, a retired fifth-grade teacher and breast cancer survivor whose strength of character overshadows her slight frame.

“Unless I’m ill or out of town, I am there every Friday night,” Lynch, 75, said. “I’ve been alone six to 10 times. People think I’m standing there waiting for the bus.”

Kitty Parker, a retired administrator at The Evergreen State College and Lynch’s neighbor, had to stop attending the vigil years ago to care for her husband, who has dementia. She admires Lynch’s steadfast loyalty to the cause.

“She is a wonderful person, a thoughtful person,” Parker said. “The amazing Joan stands every Friday.”

Rosemary Barnhart, an Olympia-based career counselor, is another of the dedicated regulars. Tall, with close-cropped hair, she always displays a sign that says: Standing Against Violence For Peace.” She, too, holds Lynch in high regard.

“She’s the core of the group,” Barnhart said. “She is my inspiration.”

Since the first vigil in October 2002, women have come and gone, while these and a few others have stayed.

“It’s the only thing in my life that’s regular,” Lynch said. “It’s a very meditative time, looking at the water and thinking of the service people in the sand and heat and cold, fighting day after day.”

Some women are there to mourn loved ones lost to violence. Some have been victims of domestic violence. Barnhart came to the group the week after two events March 16, 2003, tore at her soul: The U.S. bombing of Baghdad and the death of Rachel Corrie, the Olympia peace activist crushed by an Israeli Defense Forces bulldozer in Rafah at the southern end of the Gaza Strip.

“We’re friends with the Corrie family,” Barnhart said. “I felt so helpless as an individual when she was killed. The next week, I started standing with the Women in Black.”

The first Women in Black group was formed by Israeli women in Jerusalem in 1988 in response to what they viewed as grievous human rights violations by Israeli soldiers in the occupied territories Israel seized from Egypt, Jordan and Syria in the Six-Day War of 1967.

Dozens of other groups formed around the world, first in sympathy with the Israeli women and then in response to acts of war and violence in other countries.

“It’s comforting to know that women care all over the world,” Lynch said.

Women in Black aren’t alone on Fourth Avenue Friday nights in their quest for peace. The Olympia Fellowship of Reconciliation gathers across the street on Percival Landing. The fellowship started its Friday night vigil — it lasts from 4:30-6 p.m., in November of 1998, South Sound peace activist Glen Anderson said.

In 2008, the group Artesian Rumble Arkestra joined in, playing jazzy tunes to support the Friday vigils.

While the peace gatherings on opposite sides of the street have different styles, they have similar messages.

“We’re all in this together, Anderson said. “I like to say that we play well with others.”

While their numbers ebb and flow with the spasms of violence around the world, the folks gathered along one of Olympia’s busiest rush hour streets evoke a constant message: They stand for justice, and they stand for peace.