Why I'm Marching on January 21

Hey there party people. First off, how kickass was Corrie’s post about body positivity? It’s such an important message and movement and I am so happy to have someone who knows much more about it than I do speak about it. If you haven’t already seen it I encourage you to check it out. The following post was hard for me to write so here's a life-affirming, heart warming Joe Biden-President Obama meme to get it started: 

Who’s excited about Inauguration weekend?! *crickets* *sky falls downs* *I eat cookies over the sink while screaming at my phone as it streams the Senate hearings* *I wipe off my phone* OK, for obvious reasons based on the title of this blog, I am not excited to see the Obamas leave the White House. But, even though DJT might be planning on taking his first weekend in office off, I do not. I will be heading to Washington, D.C. to march with my mom and a few hundred thousand other people on Saturday, January 21 in the Women’s March on Washington. I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity to travel and march with my mother and add my voice to the estimated 1.3 million other people who will be marching across the globe (that number keeps changing so click the link if you want to see if it's changed). *Also, a side note for any potential robbers, my house will NOT be uninhabited. My husband will still be home so please don’t try to rob me k thanks.* I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed about the impending inauguration and am experiencing a resurgence of a lot of the same feelings I felt the day after the election. I am grateful to have the opportunity to participate in a movement that speaks to many of my concerns and surround myself with others who are standing up in support of things I believe in, though of course there is also some “infighting” because women and feminists and activists of all genders are diverse and different and, historically speaking, "women's" issues have largely been dominated by the voices of white, educated women at the exclusion of everyone else and that legacy remains today. As the date of the march approaches, I’ve been trying to organize my thoughts around why specifically I am marching and I basically need a pensieve to organize my thousands of thoughts and reasons. I’m marching because I think it is, and has been, time to stand up and be counted. I’m marching because I need to feel like I’m not alone. I’m marching because I believe that Black lives matter, that trans lives matter, that indigenous lives matter, that women’s lives matter and that policies, politicians and ideologies that demonstrate or suggest otherwise must be changed, stopped and eradicated. But what I feel most strongly right now, and what I am embarrassed to admit, is that I am marching because I am afraid.

I wish I had some grand statements about hope and progress and empowerment for you. I wish I could tell you that I believe it will all be ok and we’ll all be fine but I cannot do that. The truth is, I am afraid for myself and I am afraid for the people in this country. I am afraid that policies that have limited access to resources and oppressed this country’s most vulnerable communities will continue to be passed. I am afraid that the longstanding history of racial, socioeconomic, gender and sexual-orientation based inequity upon which this country was founded truly will represent what this country will be defined by indefinitely. I am afraid that admitting my fear will alienate others because it is an unjust and unearned privilege that I have not always been afraid. I am scared of being shot while going to the movies, walking through an airport, shopping at a mall or going to class and I fear that the new administration’s stances on both human rights and guns will fail to adequately address policy reforms that would make us safer. (side note: know what I am not afraid of? Grizzly bears).  I am afraid for the people who will continue to be dismissed, overlooked, harassed and attacked for using their voices or having the audacity to suggest that they receive equal rights as human beings in this country. I fear the apathy that is bound to set in for white upper-class America when it becomes clear that new policies and changes will only affect some. I am afraid of the statement “well at least we will be fine” and what those words mean about how much we care about the safety and value of others who aren’t in the same position. I am afraid for my niece, who will have to fight hard to stop this world from stealing her power. When I watch her run around and shout and laugh with a ferocity only a 2 year old knows, I am heartbroken to think that she will have to resist society’s messages that will tell her she must be more quiet and take up less space or be swallowed by the sea of unrealistic expectations. I am afraid of what messages she will learn from a president who brags about sexually assaulting women, denigrates immigrants and people of color and mocks people who are disabled. I am afraid for my nephews, who are sweet and sensitive. I fear that this world will try to steal those qualities from them and replace them with ideas of masculinity that are fake and false and cruel. I am afraid because people will die without access to health care. People will continue to die without adequate gun control and people will die because this country’s soon-to-be president has made it clear that not all lives are valued equally in this country. I am afraid because none of this is new and history has demonstrated that lives will be lost and most people don’t want to change.  

I wish I could say that the voices of people who will be marching across the globe on Saturday will shatter the glass ceiling and tear down the structures in place that continue to limit access to resources and oppress people of color, people who identify as LGBTQ+, people with disabilities, people with limited socioeconomic access. I don’t think anyone is expecting that to happen. I fear the divisiveness and disregard for humanity highlighted in this election cycle and demonstrated throughout U.S. history. I worry that we are so separated by political affiliation that we’ve lost sight of our humanity and what the real problems are. I am fearful because, in many ways, this country as a system has never really demonstrated a sense of humanity for all. 

This is not to say I don’t have hope. I do. I have hope that the shock waves that resonated through some communities on November 8 will open up communication barriers and break down defensive walls that have made it hard for white people to listen to the realities of people of color, men to acknowledge the imbalance in our gendered system, cisgender folks to recognize the continual oppression of people who identify as transgender, and so on. I also know that this won’t happen overnight. I know this because this type of oppression has been going on since the start of U.S. history and those who have been active in the fight against it have never been in the majority. Marches matter but one march isn’t going to change the past or completely reroute our future. The real hard work will be in the every day. It will be calling our politicians and voicing our concerns. It will be staying up to date on politics and getting involved on a local level. It will be having hard and uncomfortable conversations. It will be asking those who were shocked by this election, those who feel they are finally “awake,” to stay awake. It will be listening to people who are doing the work and not assuming we have all the answers. It will be in self-reflection, humility and acts of humanity every single day. It will be tiring and thankless and critical.

I know that marching isn’t enough on it's own but it is an opportunity to join voices, share in strength and stand together. Marching doesn’t make me an “ally” and it doesn’t make me a “savior” but it does provide the chance to add my voice to a call for equality and I believe that every voice counts. We won’t all be marching for the same things but I will be showing up because I think it’s important to show up as much as I can. I’m marching because change cannot happen in isolation and there is power in numbers. I’m marching because there is no safety in standing still and no security in staying silent.

I hope you will consider marching this weekend too if it speaks to you, wherever you are. Even if you don't agree with me or believe what I believe, your opinions matter and your presence is meaningful and I support every person's use of their voice as long as it isn't being used to harm others. If you want to march and you can’t for whatever reason, remember that this work is every day, marching isn’t the only form of activism and every moment you have to make progress is power.

Stay safe, y'all!