Scenes from a March
My activism is a growing, changing thing. It’s a complicated, messy, wonderful thing.
Sometimes, it’s a really scary thing.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to go to Washington to march with thousands of women. I was acutely aware that this march was weighted with many stories, histories, and hopes. It was inevitable that some would be forgotten, some misrepresented, some disregarded. It is partly about ethics, but partly petty and personal. I’m a Midwesterner at heart. I don’t want to disappoint or hurt others that I have respect and empathy for. But, I know I can be bumbling and wrong and sometimes it is easier to just step back, let others talk and lead and march.
In the end though, I wanted to watch history be made. So I drove all night, across the country, coming through the history-dense Alleghenies in a dense fog, to arrive in Washington D.C. along with many hundreds of thousands of others.
Here is some of what I saw there.