What to Do After the Women’s March

On a gloriously sunny and mild winter day in Chicago, I joined my first protest march in close to fifty years. It was more like a love-in than the sit-ins and protests of my youth. As an estimated crowd of 250,000 marched, I watched for the scuffles with police and angry jeers I remembered from anti-Vietnam and civil rights gatherings I attended in my youth. Instead, there was a sea of pink hats, bright smiles, and hugs.

Like the hats, many of the signs were homemade and creative. I started taking photos of my favorites to post on Facebook. Not so original, as I saw similar posts from friends who attended rallies in D.C. and all over the country. But I want to share a couple that made this senior reflect on what the march meant to me and what comes next.

Several women from my generation carried a sign that read ,“I cannot believe I STILL have to protest this ***” and after standing in the crowd for a bit, my back felt their pain. But once we started to march, a different sign caught my eye. It was hand-lettered and carried by a young woman. “I march because 45 years ago women marched for me.” I silently thanked her for acknowledging the fact that my sisters and I had worked hard to get where we are today, and we will continue to work hard for our daughters’ and granddaughters’ rights.

Another sign acknowledged Hillary Clinton’s effort by quoting from her concession speech:

“And to all the little girls who are watching this, never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world.”

Perhaps Clinton was the wrong messenger, but she also inspired one of my granddaughters to proclaim that she intended to be the first woman President. Since she’s only ten, I hope we don’t have to wait that long. I hope I get to see that day in my lifetime.

There were also signs proclaiming Angela Davis’s twist on the Serenity Prayer:

“I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.”

I wondered if the younger women carrying this sign even know who Angela Davis is. I sure do. She’s only a bit older than I and was known in my early protesting days as an activist, communist, and member of the Black Panthers. But she is also a professor, scholar, and author. While our politics may have diverged at times, I admire her passion and advocacy on behalf of the oppressed. Like her, I don’t always have the wisdom to accept that there are things I cannot change. Like her, I have always believed in the power of advocacy.

Many folks at the Women’s March and on Facebook this weekend, paid homage to the late, outspoken Carrie Fisher. As Princess Leia, she reminded a generation of young girls who grew up to be my daughters, and now my granddaughters, that, “ A woman’s place is in the resistance.”

So I will publish this blog post and start my contribution to the resistance by making phone calls to my senators to express my opposition to President Trump’s nominee for Secretary of Education, Betsy DeVos. As a former teacher and administrator and current advocate for best practice in education, I must start here. Please check her out. A woman who doesn’t know that the Individuals with Disabilities Act (IDEA) is a federal civil rights law requiring that children with disabilities have access to a free and appropriate education, and has no experience in or knowledge the things she is supposed to oversee is totally unqualified to be our next Secretary of Education.

Some folks have commented that I need to “get over it.” Trump is now President and I should go back to writing about education or baby boomer issues. But I keep thinking about one last sign that jumped out at me during the Chicago Women’s March. It was a Martin Luther King quote: “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

So for now, I’m still advocating.