Image credit (here)
My mind, body, and heart are still percolating with thoughts after participating on the Women’s March on Washington this past Saturday. I’m so excited and happy that my daughters and I could be a part of it.
The last protest I’d been a part of was in Washington, DC in 1992, which has been lost in the fuzzy memory of time, but let me tell you, once the cars started honking their support on Saturday, it all came back in a wonderful, lovely, energetic frenzy! I was whooping it up and hollering, the girls were proudly wearing their signs! I saw various messages from “A Woman’s Place is in the Resistance” from some lovely princess leia bun wearing protestors to two college-aged women carrying a “T supporters can Eat !@# and die” (of which I steered my daughters away—I get the sentiment, ladies, I was there once about 20 years ago, lol, but dodging the 1st and 5th grader eyes away from that). I saw numerous pu$$y posters, which I let my 5th grader discuss with aunty l, who was marching with us, while I carried my first grader on my back a little further off (one day she can have the pu$$y talk, too, lol). We did explain what a “uterus” is from someone else’s sign to both girls, because knowledge about our bodies is just fine.
I loved the “Scientists Believe Climate Change is Real” and the “Keep your Policies off my Body” on a women’s figure.
A few days before the march, the girls discussed what our signs should say. Mine was “Choose Love,” DD1’s was “1 Family,” and DD2’s was “Girls Rule.”
I loved being swept up in the positive, hopeful, loving energy that dammit, we are not going to let anyone hold us back. I’ve been assaulted, survived abuse, lost members of my family closest to me when I was young, and I’m still standing. There is no way I’m going to let the “assaulter of women”-in-chief prevent my daughters (or me) from achieving our goals, dreams, acheivements. So I wore black on inauguration day, and the girls and I wore our Women’s March t-shirts on Saturday, January 21st, and we marched for our rights to be alive and present and here. That’s for damn sure!
The best part? Overhearing my daughters talking about it later that evening, and hearing them say, “guess what? We were part of history today! We were in the march!”