Costume Power

The first time I wore my Statue of Liberty costume, it was the summer of 2016. The Fourth of July parade was coming up and my sweet husband thought we needed to dress up for the occasion. We lived in rural Colorado then, and our tiny local DNC had decided to take part.

Brent ordered an Uncle Sam costume for himself (adorable) and a Statue of Liberty costume for me (not so adorable. Sea foam green polyester is not really my thing). But that wasn’t the only reason I was reluctant to wear my costume in public. Westcliffe is a red-leaning town and there was tension in the air. But the day of the parade I put it on and was transformed. I stood taller. I walked with pride and confidence. I wanted people to see me, to see her, to think about who she is.

As the parade was starting, someone suggested that Lady Liberty walk by herself ahead of the Democrats banner that Brent and his brother (similarly clad) were set to carry. I wasn’t sure I was ready for the negative attention I might get, but as I walked through town, people along the parade route cheered for me, for her. They waved, hooted, and clapped their hands.

In Oregon on Saturday, I wore my costume again. Over a thousand people gathered in downtown Corvallis to express their points of view, to celebrate the country we love, and speak for the freedoms we want to protect. The sun was out, and a DJ was playing songs we could sing and dance along with under a giant oak tree. When he started to play Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “September,” I couldn’t stand still. I wiggled my way to the center of the dancing crowd, tapped a young woman on the shoulder and said, “let’s start a line.” She laughed and grabbed her friend, put her hand on my shoulder and our conga line began. Within seconds there were 45, or 50 of us moving forward together. As we shimmied through the crowd, I knew that the Statue of Liberty leading the dance was as powerful for me as it was for anyone watching.

2016

2025. Photos: Patti Lou Watkins