From: Holly Karr
“Show me what America looks like!” came the call of the chant at the Women’s March in Washington, DC.
As they gathered, it was clear that they come from all age groups across several generations. Tiny babes in arms, only months old. Toddlers in strollers or some walking with there own wee signs. Elementary school-aged children and teenagers. Young adults. Those in their mid-life years. Grandparents, some elderly and supported in their walking by children or grandchildren. A large number of them have used their talents to create hats they wore to express their solidarity.
The majority were women, but there were far more men than I anticipated. They came to support their daughters, their wives and girlfriends, their sisters, their mothers. It was gratifying to have their support and participation. Based upon the self proclamations on the signs carried, they also represented a diversity of sexual orientations.
They were black, white, red, yellow and brown — many shades of each. They were Native Americans, those whose ancestors arrived several generations ago, recent immigrants, foreign tourists, some who’ve come only and specifically to support this march. They came from every U.S. state, and many other countries. They came alone, or with family, community, church or social groups. They arrived in cars, on charter buses, on airplanes, on trains, via the Metro, on bicycles or on foot.
They came to share themselves, their thoughts, their creativity, their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their priorities, their lives. They expressed them in their rhetoric and conversations, as well as in the messages on the signs they carried. And, oh, those signs! They were humorous, clever, poignant, artistic. They were basic and elaborate, beautiful and rustic. Expressive. They communicated their worries, concerns, fears, anger. They could easily fill a book or two.
There were many issues that brought them together: fear of loss of women’s rights; racism; sexism; economic inequality; worry that a loss of health insurance could mean a loss of life in either quality or actual death; concern for elderly parents dependent on Social Security and Medicare to survive; fear that America will cease to keep open her borders to the huddled masses of the poor and oppressed; concerns for the environment and the welfare of future generations. They joined together in a spirit of sisterhood, brotherhood, humanity, concern, peace.
They were kind and gentle with each other, offering a seat to rest, a sandwich, a piece of candy, some information, a bit of space, a hand.
They were there to send a message, to support each other, to form a future together, to find hope, to begin to work together in order to start something.
“Show me what America looks like!” came the call of the chant at the Women’s March in Washington, D.C. They roared back a thunderous response, beautiful in a harmony of unique and individual voices: “…This is what America looks like!”
May God bless her!