There are hundreds of thousands of people descending on Washington, DC at this moment in time. The Presidential Inauguration is over, so tomorrow we march. With my oldest daughter, my mother, and scores of friends, we’ll gather here in my hometown for The Women’s March on Washington with strong voices and clear messages to declare that “We stand together in solidarity with our partners and children for the protection of our rights, our safety, our health, and our families – recognizing that our vibrant and diverse communities are the strength of our country.”
Dismissed with eye rolls or questions of “what do you honestly need to march for anyway? You lost, get over it,” we prepare for tomorrow. The moment Hillary conceded this Presidential election, and the reality of a narcissistic, inexperienced, sexual-assaulting, rape-accused, failed businessman running this country set in, something snapped. When the President-Elect began nominating individuals to Cabinet positions with shortcomings like little experience (at best) to clear conflicts of interest, and racist, homophobic, xenophobic track records, our collective pulse quickened.
Throughout the election and in the days that followed, there was a line tossed around that Bill Clinton assaulted women, so where was that concern when we were so vocally supporting Hillary? And I had the simplest of answers. My generation saw Bill Clinton’s infidelities and treatment of women during his time in office – and tales of those same things before his election – when we were young adults. We started talking about Monica Lewinsky and Gennifer Flowers and Bill’s culpability and Hillary’s embarrassment… and then we saw Hillary emerge. From any angle, it would appear that a discussion along the lines of “shut up, sit down, and stay out of my way, Bill” occurred in the late ’90s in the Clinton household. And Hillary worked. And we started to wake up.
When our daughters asked what a pussy is, and why Donald Trump bragged about seeing women naked, and asked how many children he has with how many different women,and we answered each of those with pounding hearts, we brought the next generation of feminists into focus. When this election saw someone as breathtakingly nasty as Donald Trump emerge as victor, the gasp from liberal white women was heard around the world. And to that collective sense of disbelief, Americans of color – particularly the women – said to us, “Welcome. We’ve been here a while. This is how America goes, and what a privilege you’ve had to expect more from it.” And we liberal white women had to shut up, sit down, and take it all in.
The March wasn’t without stumbling blocks. What started as a common idea among like-minded groups quickly found its footing with supporters, but started fumbling through permitting and leadership. Then we started talking within our villages – other parents, single friends, neighbors, and colleagues – and the March took shape. Leadership was solidified, commitments were made, and those who couldn’t be here in person started knitting. Pussy started to roar back.
As the mission and the vision for the March were articulated, one sentence among the statement stood out to me above all else: “We stand together, recognizing that defending the most marginalized among us is defending all of us.” It brought me back to a brief discussion my husband and I had right after the election, where we identified that as white, married, straight, middle-class Americans, a Trump presidency would likely benefit us financially, should he deliver on his campaign promises. Immediately upon realizing that, we followed-up with the sentiment that it wouldn’t matter. The damage being inflicted upon so many other classes and categories of Americans was entirely too great, and, well, we’re not assholes. So it matters to us.
Barack Obama, the Harvard-educated Constitutional Law professor who served as Senator before election as President, and who has been stably married to a brilliant woman for decades, has been one of the most vilified Presidents in the history of this country. It’s not surprising that the balance of power has swung back to the Republican side of the aisle, despite Obama being a quantifiably successful two-term Democratic President. This is exactly as it should be in a powerful democracy. There is not a single ounce of despair in my heart or my head that stems from the fact that a Republican took the oath of office today and is preparing to serve as the leader of the greatest nation on Earth. The overwhelming despair stems from the individual being sworn in. This individual is toxic and is empowering a fraction of our population who aren’t used to experiencing any sense of alienation. We march tomorrow to ensure that even the Trump supporters know that there are no space constraints within the American Dream. Many women see absolutely no reason for a demonstration – the wage gap, women’s healthcare, immigrant rights, LGBT protections, none of that is their concern. Whitewashing America and resisting progress are their solutions to the changing face of our country. And that’s not acceptable.
I’m spoiled that my daughters attend a school where their peers are diverse. The parents are diverse, and they’re highly-motivated to use their footing to ensure equal access. If I have any regrets, it’s that we are happily functioning within a completely liberal bubble, and have no contact with Trump’s America. But I’m amazed to see the sheer volume of people traveling to DC from every state on the map. Photos of planes full of Marchers flood my news feed, and stories of multi-generational road trips, snapshots of tables full of signs touting tolerance and kindness make me smile.
So this is #WHYIMARCH:
Because kindness matters. Because our friends and neighbors deserve respect and consideration despite their political affiliations or their treatment of others. Because my daughters are horribly confused by the ascent of a bully to the Presidency. Because I have an able body and heavy conscience and a half-million people waiting for me at 3rd and Independence tomorrow morning. So together we march.
Serene in the Chaos 