When Women Marched On Washington

Last Saturday I attended the Women's March on DC. 

I want to start by saying that I wrestled with the decision to attend or not. I read many of the articles and blogs written by women of color, who had (and have) serious concerns about what this march was really about and what it could possible do to create substantive change. I hear those critiques and they are not unfounded. The last thing POC/WOC need in the long fight for justice is more empty gestures of solidarity. I felt torn because I wanted to march. Not because marches change all that much, but because I think it is important to show up for one another. I also want to build deeper relationships with people who share the conviction that another world is possible. 

I asked David what we should do. Would marching distract us from making real change? What could we do to better combat the "isms" that infect everyday life? How can I speak up for the rights being denied to me, while at the same time, acknowledging the mountain of unearned privilege I have as a white, well educated, American citizen? David reminded me, as he often does, that when it comes to these questions there are no easy answers; we just have to make the best decision we can with humility and grace. 

I decided to march because it was one way I could speak up for my rights and the rights of other disenfranchised persons. Post inauguration, I will be thinking of better ways to channel my activism to serve the people whose voices have been marginalized or silenced. 

One of the strange paradoxes that exists for people with friends and family on both sides of the political aisle right now, is that for some Saturday's march was not bold enough, and for others, it was way over the line. When Trump won the election I didn't share my reactions publicly. There are lots of good reasons for this: 1) I am a chaplain to students who span the political spectrum; 2) I don't want to alienate or insult friends/family with different worldviews; and 3) I HATE Facebook fights. As someone who actively avoids conflict, this election season has been rough. 

I often wonder if sharing my convictions will make me appear self-righteous. Sometimes I am self righteous, but most of the time I'm just fearful. This election it was a mix of fear and disgust. I had gone to sleep before the election results were in. When I woke up around 3am (probably from nerves) I looked at my phone, saw the news, and promptly vomited. I felt terrified — I still do. I thought: Will my kids be able to enjoy nature as I did? Or will they experience the world as a hostile place, where existence is threatened by global climate change? What if Trump uses nuclear weapons, or provokes nuclear war? Will David loose his ACA health care? Will my undocumented students be deported? What about my colleagues who are Muslim or here as immigrants, will they be safe? The very next day my fears were confirmed by friends, students, and peers who reported being harassed by strangers, even long time neighbors. Something about Trump's election is emboldening people to use their privilege and prejudice as a weapon.

On social media, friends, family, even members of my home church, mocked the reactions of people like me. They called my college students "babies" and "spoiled brats." They told me people who reacted negatively to the news were "whining" because they didn't win. Well meaning Christians said we should put aside our hurt feelings and  come together in unity. These things offend me deeply.

When I messaged FB acquaintances to tell them I would be unfollowing their posts because of these statements, they told me I should engage with people who disagree with me, not shut them out. But how do I engage with you when you call the feelings and thoughts of those I agree with, "whining." How is that engagement? They told me I should put aside partisanship and seek unity with my fellow Americans. But unity is not virtue in and of itself. People unify around all sorts of destructive things. Jesus loved everyone but he certainly didn't seek unity with systems, leaders, or groups that were leading people astray. I used to think it was true that you could be affiliated with any political party and still be a Christian. I'm not so sure anymore. Do I think you can be a member of any party and still be forgiven, still be a child of God, still be worthy of love and belonging? Absolutely. Still, much of what Trump and  his party say is anti-Christ — i.e. it does not match up with the values Christ himself modeled — and so no, I will not seek unity with you.

Someone I know recently said the biggest change in the culture surrounding politics is that we used to disagree on how to solve the problems, now we disagree on what the problems even are. There are a lot of people in my life I love and respect who do not see the world as I do, or share my basic values. These dynamics are really hard to negotiate. When I am honest about who I am and what I believe I can tell these folks find it hard to keep loving me. And I can say, in all honesty, I sometimes find it hard to keep loving them. But yesterday I read an interview with Van Jones in which he said, “When it gets harder to love, let's love harder.” My gut reaction to the deeply hurtful things my friends and family share via social media is to retreat into myself and put up a wall. Loving your "enemies" is risky business, so having some boundaries is a good thing, but I still think Van is right: I want to come out of this loving harder. 

There are a zillion reasons why I am disgusted by the election of  Donald Trump and fearful of what he will do next, but I won't go into them here. Let me, instead, tell you about the march. 

 Everyone was in a great mood. David and I took the circulator bus downtown where we met teachers, grandmothers, male allies, mothers and their daughters excitedly greeting one another and sharing their reasons for marching. Out the window there was a sea of pink hats with kitten ears. We made our way to the rallying point with a small rgoup of friends where we joined a crowed of 750,000! I have never seen so many people in my life — you could hardly move! I was worried people might become grumpy as we squeezed together like sardines, but everyone was incredibly polite. I got the sense we were all thinking the same thing: "Thank God I'm not the only one who feels this way."  
 
At some point, I was able to climb on top of a wall at the Native American Museum where I could see above the vast crowd holding thousands of protest signs. I so wish the people who cast judgment from a distance could have seen those signs, and those holding them, in real life. Sure, there were a few that poked fun at Trump's hand size — this is to be expected— but the majority were statements about what the cost of this election had been to them personally. One woman held a sign that said, "I march for the mocked, disabled Muslims: me." I saw men and women wearing pictures of relatives whose identity and very lives are threatened by the policies of our new administration. I met a group of women who traveled from Oklahoma to march with Sojourners, because "our church doesn't support us."

I was glad to hear there were no arrests at any of the marches, because my experience with the relationships between protestors and the police was very positive. As I walked past police on 3rd avenue, someone announced it was one of the officers birthdays so we sang a round of "Happy Birthday" and someone gave her their pink hat. She smiled and wore it proudly.

I grew nervous as we marched passed the new Trump hotel — what used to be the Old Post Office on Constitution Ave.  Would there be jeering? Maybe even violence? No, instead we chanted: "Love not hate is what makes America great!" and "No hate, no fear, everyone is welcome here!" and a call and response chorus of, "Tell me what Democracy looks like? THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!" 

 The march was both a stand for progressive ideals and a protest against the GOP's political platform. With millions of people marching around the world you can bet there are points of disagreement between us. For instance, I was glad to see that my pro-life friends turned out in spite of most feminists emphasis on allowing women access to safe and legal abortions. If there was one point of consensus, it is that Trump has belittled and abused women his whole life and now has the power to institute sweeping policies that further undermine our humanity. Mom taught me that no one should have to endure a bully. So, do I think think Trump is a sacred child of God, yes. Do I think he is still a bully, yes. I will continue to protest because I want Trump to repent of his misogyny so that he experience the deep joy of seeing people as God sees them. I fight back because I want the next generation of girls, especially black and brown girls, to know they are intrinsically valuable and endowed with certain inalienable rights. I fight back for the activists of decades past on whose shoulders we stand.  I sometimes find it hard to be forthright about my convictions,  so I can't tell you how powerful it was to feel like I had 750,000 people cheering me on that day. Just so you know, I was cheering you on too. 

Thank you to everyone who marched in cities across America and across the world. I don't feel so alone anymore. For the women of color and others out there who struggled with whether to support this march, I need you to keep writing and critiquing and asking the tough questions. I want to be best ally I can possibly be moving forward. Until then, I will make the best decisions I can with humility and grace.