As it was for many, the latter half of November was a hellish and hazy month of shock, desolation, frustration, and an unprecedented need to make sense of everything. Leading up to the election, I was on a complete media binge. I’m looking at my camera roll from early November. From Tuesday November 8, at 5:25 PM, I have a screenshot of a New York Times opinion piece, called “Can We Expect an Early Night?” I screenshotted the concluding sentence of the piece: “There will be no riots, the call will come early, and Donald J. Trump’s concession speech will be a schizophrenic mess … See you tonight.” About 24 hours later, on November 9 at 6:14 PM, I screenshotted a tweet that says, “What’s even more demoralizing is knowing how hard Hillary’s worked and how qualified she is, and yet… And every woman knows this feeling.” I know now I was entirely too naïve about our nation to think that a Trump victory was impossible. In hindsight, the fact that I was initially so shocked at the election results still bothers me.
I heard about the Women’s March through Facebook. I was definitely interested in the idea at first. I had planned to go to the inauguration until the election results came in. The march was the perfect alternative, and seemed like a perfect way to mobilize around all of the frustration I had been feeling in the weeks after the election. I planned to go, but put no additional logistical thought towards it since it seemed 1) like a long way away and 2) that there was simply no way that Donald Trump could actually make it to inauguration day (remember the petitions about the unfaithful electors? I assumed that could absolutely never happen, but to be completely honest, the possibility loomed in the back of my mind).
As I worked through finals and approached finally being home after the dismal month since November 9th, my mom sent me an email with a link for the Pussy Hat Project, asking if I would want to knit hats for the Women’s March. When I spoke to her, she described it as “knitting therapy for a good cause.” She told me that since big crowds give her anxiety, this would be the best way for her to support the cause. So we started knitting hats. We ended up knitting 25 between the two of us. Remarkably excessive, but it was a fun way to bond with her and it really was therapeutic for the both of us. We would sit with coffee and our knitting, talking frustratedly about new developments in Trump’s transition. Probably around hat 7 or 8, we decided that we had to go to the march; we were so invested in it through the Pussy Hat Project. This is not to mention the fact that we were truly fed up with every single thing the Trump administration had promised thus far. Even if you did not binge on the media like me, you likely are familiar with the hypocrisy related to Trump’s transition period. I marched against the hypocrisy. I marched against every single headline I read that made my heart sink, leaving me more ashamed and concerned for this country.
The march was powerful. Since the initial Facebook event, it completely blew up. Attendance estimates range from 500,000 to 1 million. I met people there from every corner of our country. I had never been a part of something so large. I was overwhelmed with emotion as we got off the subway at Judiciary Square. Chants had already begun and echoed throughout the station. I felt proud that I could be there and I felt proud that hundreds of thousands of people who thought like me made the effort to be there too.
My initial awe and excitement was soon met with frustration. I have a major criticism of the march. I felt that so many lost touch of why they were there and why this march happened. The pre-march rally featured speakers like renowned feminists Gloria Steinem and Angela Davis, America Ferrera of Ugly Betty, Janelle Monae of Hidden Figures, and musicians like Alicia Keys. The pre-march rally was only scheduled to last three hours but it ended up lasted at least four and a half. For me, I was in the presence of some of the most intelligent, talented, and inspirational people. The delay was welcomed. One of the last features involved Janelle Monae, joined by the mothers of Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin, Mohammed Bah, Dontre Hamilton, and Jordan Davis. They were leading the crowd in an emotional “Say Her [or his] Name” chant. And an overwhelming number of people in the crowd were chanting “start the march” and “enough talk, let’s walk.”
I was livid. I could not understand the blatant disrespect. To me, I saw antsy, overwhelmingly white marchers who were burdened by the fact that they had to continue to stand and listen to more speeches. The women chanting on stage were burdened by their babies being murdered by the police. They were voicing generations of pain and suffering at the hands of police brutality. The march taught me a critical lesson: activism will never, ever be convenient. People who want change not only need to be willing to sacrifice their energy, emotions and preconceived notions. They also need to educate themselves about the issues of intersectionality. For so many of the people at the march, it was about marching. It was about showing face, being there to let out steam about Trump, and going home. Could I relate to that? Honestly, yes. Is that inherently wrong? No. But there is so much more to be done. A march is no solution, only the beginning of a long battle against our country’s commitment to white supremacy, xenophobia, and misogyny.
As I mentioned before, I continue to be annoyed at my own naivete about a Trump victory. I think the lesson I learned from the march, in some ways, reiterates how Trump won. We will become true agents of change only by getting uncomfortable outside of our “bubbles”. We need to understand how our country functions as a system, not just as individuals living separate lives. I am as guilty as anyone for getting caught in my own echochamber. However, I am glad that the march taught me such a critical lesson that my fellow marchers and I can work toward combatting.