January 23, 2017
Let me just say this … I am not an activist. I am not a flag nor bra burner. I am not a rally- rouser nor sit-in sitter. I am a writer. I march to the beat of a different drummer … it is by pen, not feet, that I opt to wield my voice. I believe if you want to be heard, go directly to those that make the decisions and policies and let them hear your voice. I’ve written plenty of letters in my day!
Write your congressmen/senators/local government or businesses … whatever/whomever you need to hear what you need to say. Put the pressure on them to be your voice, to take action, to make change. Make your needs heard by the power of the pen. I am not of mob-mentality. Walking/marching, to me, isn’t going to make a difference.
And yet …
I marched. I marched for a friend. I marched for the experience. I marched for myself. I marched for a neighbor who could not. I marched to be part of history. I didn’t understand the “pussy hats” … they were pretty, they were colorful and cozy-cute, they were plentiful … but if you don’t like the derogatory intimation (and who likes/uses the p-word, really?), then why promote it? I didn’t get that part.
I marched with about 1200 others from one end of my small town to the other and then back to our starting point. Impressive, for a gathering of this size, because our population is roughly 1000. So, I have no idea where everyone came from as there were spectators, too, and two other marches up island. It was a sea of pink hats and signs, banners and people (of all shapes and sizes and ages and gender) – for as far as one could see.
It was pleasantly peaceful … however, there were some angry outbursts and it was startling to me because I kept thinking, “We’re going along this route together – who are you shouting at? Don’t yell in my ear. I’m on your side!” And while I didn’t fully “get it” … it was impressive the amount of people that showed up in our little corner of the country doing what they thought would help or at least to make a statement and share a voice.
As impressive as our numbers might have been, more impressive were the numbers of marchers around the country … 500K in DC, 400K in NY, 250 in Chicago … from a small town in Alaska to Miami, from Maine to Hawaii … from sea to shining sea … and across the PLANET! Countries that most of us will never get the chance to visit. Women, men, children coming together to display their displeasure and concern over what is going on in our country. THAT was impressive to me.
Google … https://nyti.ms/2kcxycC … for photos from around the world and more info from The New York Times. Amazing.
In any case, I was part of something big. HUGE. Did we make a difference? Who knows. Did we make a statement? You bet.
I’m not an activist and that was my first and probably my last march. Not my thing. But, voices need to be heard … whether via marching or letters. And, I’m riled enough to get out my stationery and start writing. No emails for me, but REAL letters. I want my voice heard by the people who represent me/us. To me, that is how to take action. Let your state reps hear your concerns. Send a letter to the White House. Make yourself heard. They are our voices in the legislature … at least until we vote them out for not listening.