Saturday marked 10 years since two bombs shattered the joy of the Boston Marathon, killing three people and injuring hundreds of others. When people recall the events of that fateful day, they often mention the resilience, unity, and patriotism displayed in the days following the tragedy — Boston Strong. Reverend Laura Everett, who is the executive director of the Massachusetts Council of Churches, joined GBH’s Morning Edition co-host Paris Alston to reflect. This transcript has been lightly edited.
Paris Alston: How are you reflecting on the marathon bombing today, 10 years later?
Rev. Laura Everett: Oh, it's been a long ten years, hasn't it? There's been a lot of change in that time.
Alston: For sure.
Everett: I think for a lot of us, those memories are really far and have shifted. And for a lot of us, those memories are really nearby and tender. Trauma hits everyone differently, and so I want to leave a wide space for people to have varying experiences. For some of us, we were there and we experienced things firsthand. And the bombing itself was our most poignant experience of that marathon Monday. And for others of us, the manhunt and needing to stay in place was the thing we experienced most. So again, people had a range of experiences.
Alston: And rightfully so. And I know that the Sunday following you gave a sermon in Watertown at the St. James Armenian Apostolic Church about what the living do, and how in that moment, it meant practicing normalcy when things weren't normal, and practicing that together so that folks could overcome that collective trauma however they were experiencing it. How did you witness that unfold?
Everett: Yes. So St. James Armenian Apostolic Church is a really incredible community. And for them on the days afterwards, that church actually became a site where first responders worked from and was a staging location for the manhunt. And for some of the folks from that community, they were also refugees of war and survivors of genocide. And so, again, for everybody who has experienced the marathon bombing or events similar, it's worth remembering that these events and the events that followed can bring up other kinds of trauma. And so we always want to be attentive that things like helicopters flying over the city, police through the neighborhoods, sounds and sirens, can always trigger other memories, and to be especially gentle with our bodies and our neighbors.
And so it was a great honor to be invited into that church. "What the living do" is a line from a Marie Howe poem. Marie is a poet who lives in Cambridge, and it was a reminder that for those of us, post-Easter, for those of us post-marathon bombing: What the living do is get up and keep walking, not as an enforced resiliency, but as a practice of continuing life.
"What the living do is get up and keep walking, not as an enforced resiliency, but as a practice of continuing life."-Rev. Laura Everett
Alston: You know, 10 years later, Reverend Everett, we are finding ourselves in the midst of really deep political fractures. We have been through a pandemic that also divided us. We've seen an insurrection on our capital. We've had a historic racial recognition that is deeply felt all over the country and also in this city. And we know that Boston Strong continues to be illustrated in corners of everyday life, but has that been able to sustain itself through all of these changes? And in what ways has it continued or not?
Everett: You know, Paris, I feel very mixed feelings about the phrase Boston Strong, and I never want that to be something that's forced on the people. As much as we are Boston Strong I want us to be Boston tender, Boston gentle, Boston compassionate. Never a forced resiliency on people who have experienced disproportionate trauma. One year after the marathon bombing, I was privileged to join a community prayer service in the majority Black neighborhoods of Boston. And I will never forget a mother saying, Where is the One Boston Fund for my son? Was he not killed? Her son had been shot in the streets of Boston. And so as much as we think about a Boston Strong for those who have endured incredible tragedy in the marathon bombing, I want a Boston stronger that is true in every neighborhood, and not just those who've experienced one kind of violence.
Alston: I think this is true, right? It was a terrorist attack. And that sort of put everyone on the same line, on the same side of the line. But now we're on different sides of that line, Reverend Everett. And the meaning of patriotism is not the same for everyone in this country either. So standing where we are now, I mean, is there a reclamation that can happen or is it sort of what you're saying, this Boston tender, a shift in the mindset to be more encompassing, all-encompassing?
Everett: I think that's what you and hopefully I and others do in a sort of prophetic leadership. How do we shift what Boston Strong can mean? How do we and all Bostonians really think about a different kind of Boston, a stronger Boston, where every neighborhood is strong and every kind of violence is attended to, not just the big particular kinds of violence, but the ones that are harder to identify. You know, it's tragic and it's systemic, but certainly in some neighborhoods, we expect a certain kind of violence — or some people, particularly majority white people, expect a certain kind of violence, and we let it go. And so how do we attend to the sort of crushing structural violence that allowed that woman's son — that his name was not on the front page of every newspaper and in every broadcast?
Alston: And not to mention the other types of violence we see, when we're talking about white supremacist attacks, and when we're talking about white supremacists walking through our streets.
Everett: Right. And that's where something like the visual of an American flag means so many things to so many different people. In the days after the Boston Marathon bombing, it felt like raising an American flag was a symbol of unity for so many in the city. And then in the days after the insurrectionist attack on the Capitol, that meant something entirely different. I don't want the American flag to be a symbol of white supremacy, but for so many people, it starts to swing in that direction.
