What I did: the Women’s March on New York City on Saturday, January 21, 2017
What I did beforehand: got a restless night’s sleep, waking early. Decided that if I wasn’t going to march today, I was never going to march for anything. Walked and fed the dogs. Charged a camera battery. Ate breakfast. Wondered what kind of bra you wear to a protest march. Made a pussy hat, improvising without a pattern from the polar fleece I had on hand, with cat ears that turned out too pointy and looked like devil’s horns. Decided the hat was pretty much perfect that way. Told my husband I was going and rushed off to catch a train.
We sat together on the train.
What I wore: favorite jeans, Sweaty Betty striped exercise top, homemade orange hat, black parka, Smartwool hiking socks, Asolo hiking boots that I had re-soled last year and I wear to walk my dogs every day (with very old custom orthotics, because this old lady has bad feet).
Who went with me: my friend Bill from the Internet met me under the clock at Grand Central. There were a billion, jillion people in Grand Central when my train got in.
How I got tickets: I didn’t need tickets to this protest march, just good walking shoes, a day off, and the ability and will to stand up for what I believe in.
Why I saw this show: because our latest presidential election resulted in a wholly unqualified, unsuitable, woman-hating, race-baiting, vindictive, impulsive, lying monster assuming power, and I and a whole lot of other people are ready to do something about it.
Where I sat: on the train. At a march you have to rise and walk.
Things that were sad: this is only the beginning. We are going to have a lot more work to do, if he doesn’t kill us all first.
Things that were funny: lots of signs.
Things that were not funny: the feeling, as we stood on 2nd Avenue waiting for the march to start, that there was a river of human beings stretching up the street as far as I could see in either direction, and that with the people in front of me and behind me and next to me on both sides there was no way for me to remove myself from the situation speedily if I wanted to. When I moved to New York in 2011, I might not have been able to keep my shit together in such a crowd.
Something I ate: a stale untoasted bagel from Grand Central Market, because if I would have asked for it toasted I would have missed my train home.
What it is: old women, weirdos, young women, union reps, young men, hipsters, young women, little kids, babies, middle-aged white people, posers, young people of color, people in professional attire, people covered in social justice slogans, old men, they all showed up in NYC united against our hateful new president and what he represents. The mood was defiant, but not quite angry.
Who should see it: anybody who thinks that this isn’t normal.
What I saw on the way home: the train home was almost as full as the one there, where it had been standing room only. It’s going to be such a long four years.