But, as the world has learned over these past three weeks, The March turned out to be more than a march; in fact it was the beginning in our country of a movement that sprung from the hope, empowerment and renewed sense of patriotism that was born on that day in January and, for those of us who were part of The March either in body or in a spirit of solidarity, has grown only stronger since.
Today I have a guest blogger,
Three Weeks Later: Reflections on the Women’s March in DC
By Basia Nowak
The last few months have been a time of many firsts for me. I am forty-seven, and for the first time ever, I campaigned for a political candidate (I made phone calls and canvassed for Hillary Clinton, mind you, just a few times, but I did it—I came out of my comfort zone). For the first time, I made calls to my senators in December once Trump named Stephen Bannon as his advisor (and I have made many calls since Trump’s inauguration). And for the first time, I marched in a protest, demonstration, whatever you want to call it, and I did it at the Women’s March in DC on January 21.
I was a bit nervous about attending the march. I did not know what to expect. What if Trump’s supporters were out in droves the day after his inauguration, heckling us, throwing stuff at us? What if the people around me got crazy and did the same? What if the police got too aggressive? Well, it turned out to be a peaceful, energizing, and life-altering event for me. (The police actually were high-fiving us and taking selfies with marchers, and we in turn were thanking them for doing a great job. We didn’t see any Trump supporters along the route.)
A dear friend of mine from Columbus and I traveled to DC and stayed with my sister in Kensington, MD, just north of the outerbelt. I knew the day was off to a great start when as we were walking to a bus stop, one of my sister’s neighbors ran out of her house when she saw us and asked: “what shoes are you wearing?” It’s a neighbor that my sister has never really spoken to, but we were all in this together. She knew exactly where we were heading. The bus ride to the metro was uneventful, but the metro ride was amazing. Even though we were toward the end of the line, the car was already crowded and got even more and more crowded. Eventually, no additional riders were allowed on.
For anyone who's interested, here's the link to the Youtube video: https://youtu.be/O1Jk6iGBpxc
I was not sure if I should bring a sign. I’m not that creative. All I could think of was “My Body, My Choice” or “I Stand with Planned Parenthood,” since this is one of the main issues for which I was marching (others were marching for a lot of different issues). I chose to be boring and not make a sign, and I was glad I didn’t. My hands were free to take lots of pictures instead. There were a lot of signs about women’s rights, Trump’s ties to Putin and Russia, immigrant rights, climate issues, and so much more.