Women's March on Washington, Part 4

Well, the March is over. I meant to write another post or two the night of, and in the van on the way home, but to say I was too exhausted would be an understatement. And the pain. Oh, the pain! I actually took Tuesday, the day after I got home, off work, just to sleep and recover.

We had been expecting to march along a specific path, towards the White House, but there were so many people, the entire parade route was actually filled with people. Meaning, no one could move! So, we took an alternate route, instead, turning and walking down the cross streets, and then down towards the White House. As we walked, the streets were packed with people for blocks, both to our right and to our left. I had never seen so many people in my life.

As we walked, we chanted, call and response style: "Tell me what a feminist looks like!" "This is what a feminist looks like!" I loved watching the men, Dan included, yelling along with everyone. There were many, many more chants. Some had to do with the planet, some with religious freedom, some with abortion, many, many issues. It wasn't just about plain equality.

This little girl sat and held that sign up for a really long time, while playing on a tablet with her other hand. It was quite impressive.

This made my historian heart happy- the Declaration of Sentiments from the 1848 Seneca Falls convention on women's rights. We have come far, but not far enough.

You can't see it in any of these photos, but while we were standing in front of the White House, a bunch of National Parks Service people started walking across the White House lawn, and waved at us and gave us the thumbs up. It was awesome!

Now let me say something about this picture, because I have been heavily criticized for posting this on Facebook. I actually didn't intend to get the finger in this picture. I had already framed and started to click, and the finger went up. It really wasn't an issue for me, even though it doesn't directly reflect my own views. I do believe in being respectful in my dissent, at least, as much as possible. I don't believe flipping the bird is necessary. However, I am a historian, and this is something that happened. Yes, part of my reason for being there was to participate in the protest. But also, to be a part of unfolding history, and to document the experience. This was part of the experience, so I didn't see a reason not to include it. Approve or disapprove, that's my opinion, and I stand by it.

By this time, we had been on our feet for hours, and were in varying amounts of pain, and we were HUNGRY, so we decided to try and make our way back to the metro. Along the way, there was a fence where people were leaving their signs, and we left ours there.

On our way back, we had to pass by the White House guard gate, and we got stopped by the Secret Service. We weren't sure why, until the Presidential motorcade came out, driving Trump to the Pentagon where he made his infamous speech that wound up being dubbed by KellyAnne Conway as "alternative facts." Yeah, we saw part of that speech at dinner. Someone asked me how I felt, knowing the President was in one of those cars, passing through. I was in easy view of the windows. I said that I felt justified in coming to Washington. If he looked up, he would have seen me. Me. I wasn't way back in the throng of thousands. I was right there. If the President saw me, at least he knew why I was there. And knowing that maybe the President saw my face, and knew I did not approve. And that's way more than I ever hoped for. In a way, I took my protest directly to the President, and that is pretty amazing.

We also passed a LOT of DC police who were totally chanting with us, cheering us on, shaking hands, and asking people to try on their pink pussy hats and take pictures with the officers' phones. It was pretty great. We never saw anything or heard anything threatening or wildly inappropriate from the protesters. The police even commented on how unbelievably polite and well behaved this giant throng of people was.

The subway was still super crowded on the way back. Well, the station was. We stood for close to another hour before being allowed to go to our platform. The trains themselves weren't as bad, as people went to multiple different ones to go to their different destinations. Again, they pushed us through without paying. I sat on the filthy platform floor for a while until the right train came along.

We got off, and went to get pizza for dinner. It was great to just unwind, have some amazing food, and talk about our day. We went to bed pretty much as soon as we got back to where we were staying.

The next day, we headed back to Indianapolis, and we didn't get back until late. Monday morning, Christi took me and dropped me off outside my aunt Terri's office downtown. Aunt Terri is the youngest of my dad's 13 siblings, and she went to the march in Indianapolis. We went to lunch at a little Greek place, and my cousin Eric joined us. We talked about the march, about the issues, about their perspectives. Eric left, and Aunt Terri took me to the airport, and had a bit of a heart-to-heart on the way. It was really nice. I didn't meet her until I was almost 10, because her husband was in the military, and they were living literally anywhere BUT Cincinnati most of my childhood. When my brother died, she was living in Oklahoma, and they came out for the funeral. That's when I met her. And because I'm one of dozens of nieces and nephews, I only got alone time with maybe two or three of my dad's sisters when I was a kid. Aunt Terri and I hadn't ever had time for just us to talk, and it was awesome.

I got home late that night, and pretty much went straight to bed. Yes, I was in a lot of pain, and I had very much stressed my body. This isn't something that would be advised for the Autistic and chronically ill. I went, because I had to do something. I wasn't going to stay silent. It took a lot out of me, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. I went. I marched. And, in a very real way, I conquered.