Why I March
Inauguration day finds me wearing black and driving to Washington D.C. with my sister and niece. Today I mourn. Tomorrow I rise and join the Women’s March on Washington. I come from a long line of educated professional women who have paved the way for me to get my own education and have my own career. I am the mother of women and the grandmother of a fierce little princes and it’s up to me to repair the pot holes and sagging bridges on the feminist path forged by my mother and grandmother. As the pendulum of political thought swings back to conservatism, women find that misogyny has become more blatant and the world has become more hostile.
Like the rest of America, it made me sick to hear Trump brag about sexually assaulting women. It made me even sicker when my country betrayed it’s own values and made him our president. The knowledge, that only foreign interference in our election lowered the bar enough for him to leap over it, is some consolation. But I will never reconcile myself to the notion that a man who is as crass, vulgar, cruel, vindictive, and petty (as Donald Trump has shown himself to be) is our next president. I can’t reconcile myself to the notion that my elected officials might go along with his agenda. So I join the Women’s March.
I march to demonstrate to all my elected officials that “women’s rights are human rights”. I march to demonstrate that Trump is not trusted and will be carefully watched in spite of his efforts to discredit the press and undermine the first amendment of our constitution. I march to demonstrate to our elected officials that I will not passively accept an attack on civil liberties, a repeal of medicare, social security, or the Affordable Care Act. I march to remind our elected officials in general (and Donald Trump in particular) that women are a passionate and vital half the human race. Our political power is staggering. Our value immeasurable.
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