Why I Marched

I was in Hawaii for the inauguration. And so, it happened while I slept. I woke up after the fact. I woke up to a new president and a heavy sense of dread deep in the pit of my stomach.

Before coming to Hawaii, I registered for the Women’s March in Honolulu. It would have been nice to march in Santa Rosa or Oakland, closer to my home, but I was simply glad to be able to participate. To add my voice to the protest.

As the day of the march, January 21^st, approached I thought of my friends and family who would at best think this was an odd or pointless demonstration and at worst think it unpatriotic, stupid, and whiny. I began to ask myself what I could say to explain why this was so important to me.

What is this march for? I asked myself. Why was I marching? What did I expect?

With excitement, resolve, and a vague sense of purpose I headed to Honolulu to march on Saturday morning.

It rained on and off all day. There were people of all genders, all races, all ages. We laughed, and cheered, and chanted. We raised signs and our fists, sang songs, took pictures.

I left feeling a deep sense of connection to the 3000+ marchers in Honolulu. I left inspired and grateful. I left filled with a renewed sense of hope, and energy, and direction.

This is why I marched.

Not because I expect our new administration to change, but because I was changed, and because I believe a group of passionate and dedicated people can influence the course of history. Of course, this is not a new idea. Margaret Mead said it better when she wrote “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” On Saturday, we were not a small group.

 I marched because it is my right. Because in that moment it was the most patriotic thing I could do. I have never considered myself a patriotic person but on Saturday I was proud to be an American, proud to exercise my freedoms as an American citizen, and proud to participate in the largest protest in America’s history.

On Saturday, I found hope and compassion and I chose to let those be my guide for the next 4 years. I will not let fear and anger and despair rule me, stop me, paralyze me.

Hope and compassion are risky things. Some say they make a person weak or soft. I believe they make me strong. Choosing hope, choosing compassion, means choosing to make myself vulnerable to disappointment and hurt. It takes resolve and courage.

Donald Trump will not diminish that in me. He will not diminish that in any of us who marched. We are strong. We make each other stronger.

I marched because I needed to remind myself of that. I marched because none of us is alone and we needed to be reminded of that. I marched to remind myself of the goodness in others and in myself. It will never be pointless to build community, to inspire hope.

 I marched because peaceful protest and dissension are my constitutional rights.

The next 4 years will not be easy. But I am ready and willing to be part of the effort to protect what makes America great already. To elect representatives in 2 years who speak for the people, who stand for the people’s interests, who will fight for the people.

On Saturday, I marched with almost 3 million people across the United States of America. We will not be silent. We will not be idle.