I didn't see anyone whimpering, saying woe is me, it's so UNFAIR! SAD!
In fact, where I was stood during the Women's March was so crowded that I saw little else than a sea of humanity in front of me, behind me, on all sides. Amidst those buildings and monuments which stand proudly as the central focal points of my first country's great capitol city, surrounded by men, women, children, grannies and grandpas of all colors and social standing, from countries around the world and cities around the country, speaking loudly or forever holding their peace, there we stood, there we rallied. There we marched.
We special snowflakes, not crying. Determined.
Not crying. Focused.
Not crying. Optimistic.
Let it snow.
Without animosity towards one another.
With renewed hope for the work that lies ahead.
With fierce determination to stand up for what we believe in.
Let it snow.
I traveled a hell of a long way to be there but was immensely pipped by one of the magnificent women I met on leaving the hotel. As I bounded out the hotel door armed with all my supplies, a giant poster, and deep belief in the importance of what I was about to do, I waved a fleeting good morning to three women in those ubiquitous pink pussy hats who looked as if they were waiting on a taxi. "Have a great day today!" Everyone smiled, and I kept going.The doors closed behind me and I got about four paces, then thought what the hell am I doing? I turned heel and went back in. "If you're waiting on transportation to the march, I've got a rental car outside with just me in it - want a lift?" Next thing you know we're all in the car chatting away and I learn one of my new friends has come in from Japan to join her mom and sister, from Oregon, in the march. Yes, I've found my tribe for the day. And what a day.
We parked across the river and made our way on foot. The approach to the rally point took us past the Iwo Jima Memorial, Arlington National Cemetery, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument. Past purpose. Past history. The thought "what the hell am I doing in Washington?" never crossed my mind. We met people on the way, exchanged stories, home towns, reasons for being there. Mine usually ended with a smile followed by "I couldn't stay home and do nothing."
Let it snow.
As the crowd grew and the cell phone service fell into the rabbit hole, it became apparent that this was no ordinary rally. On our initial approach we'd heard Gloria Steinem, later Michael Moore, and later particular thrills for me were Tammy Duckworth and the immense Van Jones. But Tamika Mallory's poignant and jarring "welcome to our world" along with the exquisite six year old Sophie Cruz...oh we heard you. Loud and clear.
Then they announced that we'd started marching and we're all looking at one another stood in place as one more speaker after another took the mic, no marching to be seen aside from us dancing from foot to foot. My back was starting to stiffen up from all the milling around so I did a bit of a do si do with the woman next to me to the beat of a drum somewhere near us as the crowd starts chanting "March! March!" and we shuffled a couple steps then stopped again.
Must have repeated this about three or four times before we finally got moving and paused at one of the giant screens when the impromptu Madonna curse fest and concert began. As we discussed how horrendous it would be for the media coverage of this amazing event to focus on her, we turned to catch up with the tail end of the crowd that had started moving, some 50 meters from the end of the road. There may have still been fifty to a hundred thousand people still to follow. Chanting everything from "Tell me what Democracy looks like? This is what democracy looks like!" to "Keep your tiny hands out of my underpants!" There were people climbing trees to get a better view of the crowd, folks passing up their cameras to capture that moment on film. We are HERE. We are EVERYWHERE. Hate loses. Love wins.Let it snow.
As we rounded the corner I caught glimpse of just how enormous the crowd was and broke out in goosebumps from head to toe. By that point we'd been on foot for about five hours. Spotting a gap in the gates, we made our way towards the Washington Monument. Crossing the grass we turned to look, once again absolutely flabbergasted at the enormity of the crowds filling up the roads and pathways in every direction. We took some pictures then headed up the path.
A crowd had gathered around the Washington Monument, so I peeked through the wall of legs up on the elevated grassy area. There lain out was a giant canvas replica of the Constitution adorned with signature after signature. It reminded me of the Cubs wall in Chicago. I asked a boy to help hoist me up on the bank, found a Sharpie and made it known that the Sindas had come. Over an ocean to protect what future awaits my very special son, I had come.Let it snow.
It's now the day after the night before. Flight leaving in about ten hours, I've come and done what I had to do and I'm leaving with a full heart and zero regrets. I needed to come here and be surrounded by that wall of people who feel equally horrified by what's happening in this country and who will now get to work on doing something about it.
As for me, I will most certainly start making the necessary phone calls when called upon to better support those back home who are fighting for us. As I'm headed back over the ocean, I'll do what I do best - keep talking. My words are my best sword and my son is the 'king' for whom I wield them. My votes are my beliefs and I will continue to cast them in both home countries for politicians who don't gloat in victory, who don't discount people's real fears, who don't de-value and marginalize entire demographics. People who work to make the world a kinder place. A fairer place. An equitable place.
These are certainly dark days for America, and so for the rest of the world with such an alarming America. But yesterday, a blizzard fell across the planet. Long may the winds of righteousness blow.
Let it snow.
