While I was always raised in the church, I wasn’t someone who had to go all-day, every day. First of all, I’m AME; we aren’t necessarily known for the all-day services (thank God). Secondly, my mom gave my brother and me some freedom on how we engaged outside the weekly gatherings. For me, that was not participating in Sunday School.

However…

One Sunday School activity I always had to participate in, was the Easter (later called “Resurrection Sunday”) program. Each year, I was sent home with a poem or some form of prose, and each year, I had to recite it in front of the congregation.

So Easter has always held some significance in my life.

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As I’m writing this, the DMV, like most of the country, has been issued stay-at-home orders. Actually, today is exactly one month since I’ve been working at home, and exactly one month that I’ve gone without wearing a bra. But that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, along with these stay-at-home orders come the decision to cancel church. And cancelling church, during the Lenten season no less, is not something most devout Christians are willing to do.

Which is why I was so pleasantly surprised to see how many churches did. When my mother told me that Allen Chapel in KC not only decided to no longer hold physical service, but moved to an online platform, I about shouted.

And as we know, the last time I attended Sunday service was Easter 2018, at the behest of my mother who said it would be a birthday present to her.

Guilt trips work every time.

(narrator: Monica again attneded service at the very subtle encouragement of her mother this Easter morn. She was cooking while doing so, but the Zoom was on.)

So back to Easter 2020. Earlier this week, I considered logging on virtually, but I also didn’t want to be one of those EAC Christians*. Conditioning has taught me that it shows you aren’t truly loyal, and experience has shown me that those are the ones most harshly judged.

Still, the thought carried on. That is, until I received another idea.

“Let me go around DC (proper, not M or V), and take pictures of various churches on Easter Sunday.”

I imagined it would be powerful and impactful to see these churches that would normally be buzzing on Easter morning, empty. As a trained journalist and a historian, I had to capture these images.

At first, I thought maybe I should just photograph the Black churches in DC, considering how important Easter is to our community, but then I remembered that there aren’t as many Black churches in NW DC as there used to be, and, due to the orders, I didn’t want to venture too far outside my quadrant. I set two goals: Metropolitan AME (where I’m still on the roll) and the National Cathedral. I knew which route I’d take, and knew that I’d catch other churches along the way.

So I got out this morning around 9:45 ish. I wore my mask and told myself that I’d only get out the car if the street was close to, or completely, empty. I expected the city to resemble a ghost town as much as possible.

I was wrong.

————-

While I was able to secure my pictures of Metropolitan (a church I haven’t seen in almost 3 years), Asbury UMC, Mt. Vernon Place UMC, John Wesley AMEZ, and a few Episcopal and Catholic churches, I was unable to get the Cathedral.

Why? Because there were a ton of people there. I’m sure they were only sightseeing, but I had to honor the promise I made myself. I was not going to get out of the car unless the area was empty.

Now I’m kicking myself for not at least getting a picture of all the cars lined along Wisconsin Ave. That could’ve been a powerful picture.

I also passed by the farmer’s market at DuPont Circle. While the crowds weren’t as busy as they’d normally be on a Sunday, I had a feeling that my timing (and the weather) had an impact. Even given their small-ish crowd, no one was practicing social distancing. I wonder what the area looks like now that it’s 2 pm, the skies are blue, and sun is shining.

There were so. many. people. out.

Brief tangent: I know we’re supposed to all be in this together, but I couldn’t help but notice who had on a face covering or mask and who didn’t. Most of the white people I saw were bare-faced, while every POC, even those assumed direlect, wore either a mask or scarf. Perhaps it’s because we know that, no matter our station in life, we are still the most impacted, and despite what the AG thinks, it has nothing to do with us not wanting to make our “Big Mama/Abuela" or “Pop-Pop” proud.

And yes, I could be reprimanded for not staying at home myself. Afterall, I didn’t actually get the story that presented itself because I was in search of the story I wanted to tell. And while I did so to be cautious, my observations were more powerful than the pictures I took.

The idea is that we’ll be off lockdown in a couple of weeks, but from what I observed before 10:30 am, we’ll need at least a couple of weeks to determine how much of an impact this Easter holiday will have on the virus. This isn’t just the evangelical church-goers. I’m sure there will be family and friends gathering at each other’s houses because “they don’t have it,” and the loneliness that we have all experienced over the last few weeks is getting to be too much. There will be parents who host Easter egg hunts for neighborhood children and their families, in an effort to give the kids some sort semblance of normalcy and holiday fun. Neither of these things are done maliciously. My photo project wasn’t done maliciously.

We’re all just trying to find some normal. Some meaning in all this. Trying to find the beauty.***

I didn’t get the story I wanted; I’ll share the pictures anyway. As you view them however, just try to imagine what they would’ve been like on Easter 2019; how they’d be if our government responded in a way where we could actually have packed the pews this Easter: regular attendees, and EACs alike, all dressed in our finest—welcoming the unofficial beginning of spring.

That, despite all the words in between, is the story I wanted to tell.

*Those who know, know. Those who don’t, it means “Easter and Christmas only.”

**There are images that are forever burned in my mind, but I never got on film. One was the view from my office window at Manley HS in Chicago. The skyline in the background, standing so powerful and proud, and the extreme poverty right underneath it—it told the story of two Chicagos.

***Except for the man a couple days ago who, after the mayor said we had to shop with some form of face covering, smugly came into Safeway, and wouldn’t leave my personal space until I gave him “the look.” That man had malicious intent. You can’t convince me otherwise.