Women's March 2019

“If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way

-MLK

On January 20, 2017, I had planned to be in Washington, D.C. I had purchased airline tickets for my daughter and me in October 2016, as had several friends of mine from across the country. Some were coming alone; others were bringing their daughters. We were going to watch the Presidential Inauguration together at my best friend’s house in Baltimore.

But November 8, 2016 happened, and I sunk into a deep depression. A few days later while in Maryland with my best friend, we learned about the first Women’s March in DC scheduled for the day after the Inauguration. “Don’t cancel your tickets,” my friend said. “Come to DC, and we’ll march.” For a moment, I felt a flicker of energy. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll come, and we’ll march.”

When I returned to Dallas after that weekend, I emailed the other friends who had planned to celebrate with us to let them know of our plans. Some of them agreed to join us. But as the days and weeks passed, I remained in a depressed funk that I couldn’t shake. My husband who has always been supportive of my independence and career, but has never been a fan of Hillary, was exceptionally supportive after the election. However, I could tell that he was concerned and growing weary of my melancholy spirit. My family and friends were also concerned. Finally, right before the holidays, I texted my best friend and told her that I wouldn’t be going to DC to march. She understood. She was feeling the same way. I emailed my other friends with my news, and learned they were also having the same feelings. Normally, a chance to spend time with my best friend and others whom I care about, even under bad circumstances, would have generated some excitement for me. But it didn’t in December 2016.

When my friend Sue heard that I wouldn’t be going to DC, she invited me to march with her in Oklahoma City. I also considered going to Austin for the March there, but couldn’t muster enthusiasm to do either.

On the day before the Inauguration, I learned from a colleague that a Women’s March was scheduled for Dallas. The Dallas March was scheduled to begin at Dallas City Hall – 8 blocks from my apartment. Even in my state of despondency, it just felt wrong for me to pull up the covers and stay in bed that day. So, I walked to City Hall. I wasn’t alone. There were several people on the street that seemed to be heading in the same direction. I felt somewhat encouraged. The Dallas Women’s March website had said to start gathering at City Hall by 9 a.m. for the 10 a.m. March time. I arrived at 8:45 a.m. (thank you, Gary Stidham, for making me so punctual). There were several hundred people gathered. The signs were creative. So, armed with my camera, I started taking photos. Then something magical happened. I looked up from my camera, and the crowd had grown. Thousands and thousands of people were descending on Dallas City Hall. A kaleidoscope of individuals and families – black, white, brown, red, yellow, Christian, Muslim, Jew, men, women, young, old, middle-aged, homosexual, heterosexual, healthy, physically impaired, etc., etc., etc.! I had goose bumps!

Then we started marching. We marched peacefully to the Communications of America Hall for 2.1 miles (approximately 8,870 steps). We passed Dallas police officers who were there to protect us as they smiled and waved holding roses. We passed cars as the drivers (men and women) honked their support. We passed people holding signs and cheering standing along the street. I checked social media, and found friends in Oklahoma, DC, California, Austin, and other countries posting the same solidarity and turnout for Women’s Marches.

By the end of that day, there were cracks in my depression. I could have flown across the country to spend the day cocooned with my best friend, but I had found hope and inspiration in the form of kind, caring, and loving people in Middle America.

And, that’s why I’ve continued to participate in the succeeding Women’s Marches – to find hope and inspiration and strength.

I’ve always been inspired by the words of freedom and equality, that appear so eloquently in the U.S Constitution and the Bill of Rights, yet I understand that this country has a long history of injustice and oppression. When I hear white people say they don’t understand “why blacks are complaining because they have it so much better now than in the past” or when whites rage against the term “black lives matter,” I know there’s still so much work to do.

When I see a video of Utah Senator Orin Hatch laughing at women who have suffered sexual assault and telling them to “grow up,” I know there’s still so much work to do.

When I read remarks made by former Michigan State University interim President John Engler that survivors of Larry Nassar’s sexual abuse were “enjoying” their moment in the “spotlight,” I know there’s still so much work to do.

Call me naive, but this country bears little resemblance to the one I thought existed prior to November 8, 2016. But, I still believe the country I imagined can be a reality someday — one that celebrates diversity and equality. And, I need hope and inspiration to build the strength to continue to do the small things to ensure my dream becomes a reality.

This year when Sue invited me to march in Oklahoma City, I got in my car and drove the 206 miles north. As in previous years, I found hope and inspiration in Middle America. But this year, I got to share the experience with my friend, as well as my sister and niece. We marched to honor the women who have broken down barriers and made cracks in the glass ceiling for us. We marched to honor our work in that effort. We marched for our mothers, our sisters, our daughters, and our friends. And, Sonya, McKenna and I marched for a little girl who will be born into our family in April. We marched that she may know equality.

Thanks Sue, Debbie, Paula, Sonya and McKenna.

“Here’s to strong women. May we know them. May we be them. May we raise them.”