wmarch-sign

Before we all die I just want to say…

I loved the Women’s March. I loved marching in it. I loved doing this because of what it represents. I marched with my woman and I marched for her. In fact, I marched for my mother, my step mom, all my aunts, my cousins, my nieces, my god daughter, my sisters in law, my students (former and current), my co-workers, and my friends.

I feel that much of my life has been about women. I have such a profound respect for women and I learn everyday from them. I recognize my privilege through education, experience, and the numerous mistakes that I try to atone for. It is important that I take all that into account when I’m marching or protesting for a cause because I know how important women are to me.

Without getting too much into the intersectionality of Feminism, I wanted to say that the one thing that surprised the shit out of me was the Black Lives Matter chants. I was more than thrilled to hear and chant those in this march in New York City. It is important that this movement include all of us. It is important that we never forget Black women and Latinas. We cannot forget Asian women and Muslim women. All these parts of what women are make a difference in the overall ideals of women.

Note: Favorite chant of the day…
Women: My Body, My Choice!
Men: Her Body, Her Choice!

There is also room for the Transgender community as well. They also have a seat at this table and when people complain about how men want to control the inside of a woman, we need to be mindful on how we attempt to control body choices of Transgendered community.

Yet, despite how hopeful these marches were and how good it felt to participate in them, I cannot help but feel angry everyday. I cannot help but feel our hope slip away as facts get thrown out the window and replaced with “alternative facts”. Lie after lie after lie puts me in a foul mood and this is just the first week in a long four years.

How many marches are we going to have? I know this is what democracy looks like but this is not what democracy feels like.

Sigh. I do see hope in the eyes of my God daughter. I do see hope in the eyes of my girlfriend. I don’t know what I will do if and when I ever see their hope fade.

That is why I march.

 

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