"It's a world gone crazy keeps woman in chains..." -Tears For Fears
This is NOT a political post. This is simply a first hand account for those who want to know the whole story. This is for those who wanted to join the Women's March but couldn't. This is for those who joined a sister march and want to know about the mother of them. This is for those who didn't support the marches, but are curious. Most importantly, this post is for those who try to distort the marches with alternative facts.
3:30 am: We pull into a packed parking lot at our local mall. We see many women carrying bags and pillows. Some are already wearing their pink pussy hats. I deliver some hats made by Michele of 144stitches.com to one of my friends designated for another bus and then line up for bus number three. I'm pleasantly surprised to see a couple of men have joined us. I meet up with another friend who has brought both her mother and her daughter. I've never seen so many sleep deprived happy people. One woman asks us if we can photograph the back of her jacket. It says "I am the daughter of Muslim immigrants."
4:00 am: We are on our way. Our bus leader welcomes us. She's wearing a pink sweater. She hands out contact cards so we all have her information. She runs through some general information and then urges us all to sleep. It will take us 5 hours to get to the train station in Greenbelt Md.
6:15 am: We are woken to take a quick break. I run to make the giant bathroom line as all we have is 15 minutes. I sadly pass up the Starbucks I desperately need. I talk to two women in line who are my mom's age. I get back on the bus. One of the women from the bathroom suddenly knows my name. She's an old friend of my mother's who recognized me despite not having seen me in 30 years. Two women my age in front of me get on with Starbucks. I'm jealous and joke with them about my envy. Later on they become our new friends and spend the whole day with us.
9:00 am: We arrive in Greenbelt. The line for the DC Metro wraps around the parking lot four times. A sea of women and men in pink hats carrying signs, some gently stating their resistance, some with curses. Some depict the earth begging for protection from climate change, some with vaginas begging for "tiny orange hands" to keep off. No matter how "vulgar"the sign, the person attached is friendly
and upbeat. It takes us an hour to get onto the train. I see a trans teenager get on with a sign in defense of her rights. An interracial group of gay men board and stand with me. We start to talk. They tell me how important it is for them to stand with women today. So selfless, as I know they have their own issues to fight for.
11:50 am: We finally get off the train. The station is packed. Signs are displayed and people chant. A nice man starts to talk to me. The mood is positive. Any anxiety I've had during preparation for this day begins to fade. Nobody is here to fight. Everyone is here to have their voice heard and to be one with their fellow Americans. It's overwhelming. I'm overcome with emotion. It's a feeling that will wash over me again and again during this experience. Out on the street people are walking in every direction. We aren't sure where to go so we just start following the crowds. We lose our multigenerational group of friends when they get stopped for pictures with their signs. We make a pact to stay with our new Starbucks drinking friends. One man is shouting into megaphones. We can't tell if he's with or against the cause, but he's harmless. I see a group of women wearing Planned Parenthood hats and wearing matching aprons. I wish I could remember what they had painted on them. Young girls have perched themselves high on a wall. Their signs beg for freedom of choice and power over their bodies. I realize the threats to these things affect them more than I, since my childbearing years are pretty much behind me. I mentally vow to not let them down. We suddenly realize we've been walking in the wrong direction. We turn around and try to find the main event.
1:00 pm: Time is flying.There's so much energy around us that we don't even realize we've been wandering for an hour. We find the rally which is already in full swing.The area in the gates are packed and with one of our new friends expecting, we decide to stay on the fringe of the crowd. We stand atop a bench and can see the event via a television in the middle of the street. I can't tell who is speaking. There's an entire family next to me...parents, children...males and females. An elderly couple passes. The man is wearing a Make America Great Again hat. People notice, but nobody bothers him. We decide to get a closer look at the rally. We end up at a glass and metal divider next to a wall. We climb it and then jump down and wade through some bushes. We are laughing. It's the first laugh I've had since before the inauguration. We now have a clear view of the television. Randy Weingarten of the AFT takes the stage and talks about public education. I'm cheering. Then Alicia Keys takes the stage. She gets the crowd going with a short rendition of "This Girl is on Fire." The crowd is ready to march. We are lucky enough to be one of the first to break free from the rally. I hear Maryum Ali talking about her father as we make our way through the gate. We head towards Washington Monument. I've never seen so many people. We join in several chants; "My body, My choice", "Black Lives Matter", "Love Trumps Hate", and "This is what democracy looks like." So many signs, so many people. Every race, religion, and walk of life represented. THIS is the most American thing I have ever witnessed.
3:45 pm: We need to head back to the Metro if we want ample enough time to meet our bus. We decide to stop at the Smithsonian Museum of American History for some food. I pass pictures depicting African American History. I wonder out loud if any of these photos will be replaced by an administration that seems hell bent on everything being white. I feel sad. We get food and make a bathroom stop before we go. I meet two women outside the bathroom. One is a teacher from Seattle. I give her a hug. I want to give out more hugs. I'd never felt so much love in one place. At the station we see two women draped in patriotic scarves. They are wearing winter hats with TRUMP embroidered on the front. People notice, but, again, nobody bothers them. We make it back to the trains. Two Muslim women in Hijabs board with us. We talk and laugh together until our stop. On our next train I'm next to a woman in a wheel chair. She is also a teacher. A seven year old girl stands next to me. Her mother lovingly asks her what she learned today.
4:45 pm: We are back at our bus. We are tired, but energized all at once. We've shared this experience that is so much greater than us. I call my 91 year old grandmother who tells me just how worldwide this demonstration was. She's beaming with pride. I know she would have marched if she could have.
I never saw malice. I never saw looting. I never saw anybody arguing. I never saw disrespect for the police. I saw hope, I saw love, I saw concern, and I saw America. I was there. I saw. I heard. I won't let anybody else pervert that or twist it for their own benefit. I marched.
*Miles ran this week 8. Days until marathon 286.
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