In a world where so many things leave me with a lump in my throat I can’t imagine why a March for Women would be discredited and belittled as nothing more than a vain attempt to “feel” like you’re doing something.
To the woman on NPR this morning who dismissed us as a whole for not having a defined call to action nor track record of actual change, I ask you why on the laundry list of things going wrong in this country that was your talking point for Sunday morning?
Spending my Saturday how I choose, electing to show up to stand with other men women children (and animals!) who chose to be there is nothing to be shamed for. Even if, in your regard, “nothing happened”…I would like to point out that if one person was empowered by being there something indeed did.
Might I be that one person? I saw dreamers, lovers, sisters, mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, friends, partners, mail carriers, nurses, volunteers all unifying as one massive presence of togetherness. I saw a 5 year old child hugging a 94.5 year old woman holding a sign of the Statue of Liberty. I thought of the night of the 4th 2016 when I sat in a lonely bar in Texas wondering how this happened.
Not everyone has the privilege of being around empowered women. Isolation and doubt are the main drivers in evil men like Trump. They wanted us to feel overpowered. Like we were losing the fight. Things would be different now.
Where I stood yesterday I couldn’t see the where we ended. It was a sea of marchers. Each with their own reasons to wake up on that Saturday and spend it in solidarity with each other. Their reasons are theirs as mine are my own. They are ours.
It isn’t your place to determine whether or not it was ~enough. If you want to believe that the humans there yesterday were there for disingenuous reasons I’ve learned by now there’s not much I can say to persuade you. I’ve also learned that it doesn’t matter.
Too much of our lives are spent pondering whether or not we are enough. This wasn’t about who did more. It wasn’t about who was the best. It left me healed and hungry and grateful. You see all of the hands holding those signs are attached to bodies whose eyes painted them. Eyes that left the march with many more words than their own.
There are so many things more deserving of our attention than tearing down those who elect to spend their precious time to support a movement they believe in.
It is so much more than just a march. But even if to you it was merely a walk in the park, who are you to tell me it won’t change anything? Why do you say it like you’re right?
The thing about change is there is no change too small. Patience. Time. We can’t control the latter, but we can continue to ensure we are counting the minutes of the time left on the current agenda’s clock. Change is a coming. As sure as the wind blows. As sure as my memory of yesterday.