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Paly grad Joan Baez performs at UC Berkeley’s Sproul Hall during the Free Speech Movement in 1966. “I know I’ve always been the happiest when I’ve been wearing both hats: doing activism and non-violence work, and music,” Baez said.

America in 1958 was at a crossroads: it was the year that the landmark ruling Brown v. The Board of Education outlawed segregation in schools, which represented progress in civil rights in the context of ongoing racial tension. In foreign affairs, America found itself amid an intensifying Cold War that resulted in an increasingly aggressive anti-communist campaign.

It was also the year that 17-year-old Joan Baez, then a student at Paly, defied an all school air raid drill — her first of many acts of civil disobedience.

The escalating arms race between the Soviet Union and the U.S. had led to a widespread fear of nuclear war, and schools ran air raid drills to prepare students for a possible attack. Many peace activists at the time, however,  Baez among them, voiced concerns that the practice was designed to instill unnecessary fear in people and prepare them for war, rather than turning to nonviolent conflict resolution. 

“Paly decided they were going to have an air raid drill for all of us,” Baez said. “We’d all walk home, or your parents would come and pick you up. And I just thought that was so ridiculous… So I decided I would stay in class, stay in school.”  

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When the alarm rang, students walked out of the building in compliance, leaving desks empty and hallways quiet. Baez, however, said she remained in her seat, with her heart pounding. 

“I was nervous,” Baez said. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t really nervous, because I was the only one doing it.  But I knew I had to do it by myself. When I said ‘I’ll do this,’ it would be whether somebody else was with me or not.

The press took notice. 

“The next day, the newspapers were saying that a 17-year-old had done this thing,” Baez said. “Then, the following day, the newspapers were saying that I was a communist, and not to let your kids come near me. But I did it on my own.” 

That small act of resistance was just the beginning. From that moment on, Baez found herself drawn to movements fighting for civil rights, peace and social justice. A prominent singer, songwriter and active member of the civil rights and anti-Vietnam war movements, she has been jailed twice and has performed domestically and worldwide with activists and musicians, including Dr. Martin Luther King, Bob Dylan and Paul Simon.

Though she is known for singing and speaking out about nonviolence, she said her spiritual upbringing and influences after her parents became Quakers when she was 8 exposed her to the importance of deep, quiet contemplation as well. 

“I was raised from that point on as a Quaker, which means that you hear discussions about non-violence, about nationalism,” Baez said.  “It’s the silence that has stuck with me — by way of meditation and realizing how important silence is. And the other part that stuck with me was social awareness. I was very much on board.”

Even as a teen, she said she saw these Quaker ideas translated into action within her family.

“My father was anti-bomb shelter (in Palo Alto), because a bomb shelter was a stupid idea,” Baez said. “So we were all passing out anti-bomb shelter leaflets. That’s the first time I remember really being out with my family, supporting a cause.”

Baez said hearing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. speak in person as an adolescent was a particularly transformative experience.

“I dissolved into tears,” she recalled. “This man was doing what I’d read about. He was organizing bus boycotts in Mississippi, and I was just smitten with the fact that this was what I read about, and it was happening, and there were people doing that. I’m sure that’s when I signed on mentally for the civil rights movement.”

Throughout the Vietnam War, Baez continued protesting, and she traveled to North Vietnam to perform music and promote peace. While in Vietnam, she was rushed to safety while American bombs were dropped throughout the country during her stay. Later, on a tour of Latin America, she was perceived to be such a significant threat by dictators from Brazil, Argentina and Chile that she was banned from singing in those countries, denied entry into them, and even faced death threats. Still, Baez said no oppression could deter her from performing.

Although she has always been very involved in collective action, she said she didn’t always have a full understanding of how much her activism was affecting society at the time. 

“I knew I was on the front lines,” Baez said. “But I didn’t know it would be as impactful as it turned out (to be).”

Over the years, Baez’s clear, strong voice has become a force in movements for peace, civil rights, and social justice. Her version of “We Shall Overcome,” for example, became a protest anthem throughout the 1960s. 

“Music really is the only thing that crosses boundaries of countries and beliefs,” Baez said. “When I was arrested for aiding and abetting the draft resistance movement, there was a group of us, and we were all pacifists, and these police surrounded us. I stood up and sang something – probably Amazing Grace –  facing one of the policemen, and he just started to shake. They plucked him out of the line because he wasn’t tough enough.”  

This intersection of music and protest has been the most fulfilling for her, personally, as well. 

“I know I’ve always been the happiest when I’ve been wearing both hats: doing activism and non-violence work, and music,” Baez said. “That’s when I really flourish.” 

Additionally, although an inspiring figure in times of chaos, Baez said she is not always a hopeful person herself, and acknowledges that sometimes the burden of injustice can feel overwhelming.

“I’m not a particularly optimistic human being,” Baez said. “I never was. People say to me, ‘How do you keep your optimism?’ and I’m saying, ‘What can anybody do?’ It can’t matter whether you’re cynical. In the state of the world, I go up and down, trying to find my place and what to do.” 

Sometimes that place has involved joining a movement with others, but often she has felt called to act on her own, if necessary.

“Most of the stuff I’ve done, I’ve done alone,” Baez said. “Doing it with other people was too risky when people had families and kids — I’m not blaming anybody for not signing on — but when I was in Chile, decades ago, they were disappearing people, so it was dangerous. My participation in (resistance movements) is really, really important to me.”

Baez also said she understands the difficulty of keeping a movement non-violent, especially in a period of time that can feel scary and out of control. In tough times, she said she reminds herself of the deeply spiritual and lasting legacies of non-violent leaders, such as Gandhi and King. 

“I get so pissed off,” Baez said. “By nature, I am bellicose, and I have a really short fuse, so I have to turn to the people who carry out what I believe in to get a refresher course.” 

These days, Baez spends her time walking, writing poetry and painting portraits of what she calls the Mischief Makers  — activists, leaders, writers and musicians who have fought for nonviolence and justice. She keeps chickens in her yard, does yoga and other exercise to stay physically strong and nimble, and said she tries to find meaning and purpose in the small things in her life, which helps her overcome feelings of pessimism. 

“There were these flocks of birds years ago, and they would come through in the canyon below me, and it was just like a chorus,” Baez said. “It was a cacophony of bird sounds. And over the years, it vanished almost completely (due to climate change). And so: instead of going around moping about it, I decided to listen to the one bird that was there. I mean, we still have birds, you know. And I started listening to one bird, and quit waiting for the chorus.” 

For young people looking to get involved in activism but who may not know where to start, Baez’s advice is simple: start by doing what you love.

“One of the things that I think is true is that you should find what calls to you. It could even be rescuing dogs, but something that is in a positive nature, has to do with kindness, empathy and all the things that they’re trying to erase. Don’t think about whether or not that will affect the bigger scene — because it probably won’t. Probably nothing I do is going to affect it, but I have to do my calling, and the sooner you find your calling, the better it is for you and everybody. It might be something that doesn’t look that important at all, but if it’s positive, and it’s kind and it affects somebody else in a good way, I say, ‘Go for it.’”