The Women’s March: What it Meant to Me


It’s been two weeks since my last blog post, which is a million years in blog land, but I’ve been overly occupied. For one thing, work and my studies are taking a toll on my time, as well as caring for my family. Freelance projects to manage, books to read, shows to watch, textbooks, classes to attend, trips to plan, meals to make, laundry to fold, chauffeuring my kids around to activities after school – it’s a lot but multi-tasking is a specialty of mine.

But there was one major event that I attended that changed everything. It changed my attitude, my direction, the path to my future: The Women’s March. I went, along with my daughter who is 13, by train on a adventure to Washington, DC. I didn’t know what to expect, but I had been so upset since the election on November 8th and I needed to be with others who have been in mourning.

Well, that was no problem. From the moment I stepped on the train in NYC, I was surrounded by women who felt the same way. Women who want a future like the one I want for my daughter -where abortion is forever legal, immigrants are welcome and affordable healthcare is available for all. In my eyes, there was at least a million people who agree with me in a fierce, powerful way. There was a sea of pussy hats and posters that that said everything from “#Resist” to “Women’s rights are human’s rights” to “This is what democracy looks like”. Seeing these signs, hearing people yell – it just all felt so right.

Naturally, like with most rushes of emotion, I hit a wall when I got home. All this negativity came out about the rally and march. It was too white; it was run by Bernie-ites; its founder met with the head of Hamas the day before the march. I felt a bit swindled for a minute.

But then I remembered what I experienced. What my daughter experienced. What we saw. What we heard. And I knew that the march was what I needed to get over the hump and move on. We have no time to sit still right now. It’s time to stand up for our rights, for the lives of our children. Everything is at stake.

The march was everything and no one can tell me otherwise.

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