We are not ovary acting.
Why did I march?
It’s simple. All we need is love.
BEFORE you roll your eyes at the seemingly trite answer, or get angry because now you have the Beatles stuck in your head, I implore you to take 4 minutes to read this.
I marched to see the differences in each of us, walking shoulder to shoulder for many of the same causes but from varying individual motivations. When these differences converge and we find some unity, we don’t find uniformity we hopefully find love and understanding.
Our collective voices can be powerful. Beyond the sheer volume of deafening chants, it can take a shy, embarrassed, lonely, oppressed voice and magnify it; give it the courage and validation it needs to speak up a little bit louder long after it’s left the masses.
I marched to magnify voices. I marched to empower and feel empowered.
I marched last year for a variety of reasons, and this year because unfortunately some of my fears have become reality. Much of the focus was on the failings and incompetencies of the current administration. While I may agree with many of the sentiments I heard and read on the march, I do not march out of hatred. I let my anger and disappointment fuel my first steps but those emotions can’t sustain me. And many marchers aren’t fixated on the negative, we’re just fed up and we need to know we’re not alone. Because community and standing up for what we believe in is important. Because listening to what others believe in is important, and what better place to do that than in a crowd of passionate people?
I marched because my heart feels like someone is trying to squeeze the life out of it whenever I hear of another subjugated woman, abused, manipulated, coerced, and intimidated by someone in power and the institutions that have protected its abusers. I marched for each woman who said, “me too.”
I marched for DACA and human rights. I marched for pro-choice and I marched for pro-lifers. I marched for our right to be heard and seen as human, as equals. For male, female, gay, straight, white, black, young, old… so we can see the beauty in our differences. To change the dialogue around the way we speak to, for, and about women… about ourselves. To change my dialogue about myself.
I marched to find better ways to love myself and love others. To open my eyes wider and see that we are all human… hope-filled walking contradictions searching for understanding. All of us humans with worries and anger and desires and passions… all in need of love.
Does my marching on a Saturday make a difference? You’re damn straight it does.
It adds one more voice to the cry for change. One more voice that begs for everyone to be open minded, to hear our concerns as a public prayer for everyone (including the marchers) to open our minds and our hearts to listen to someones concerns. To hear one more story. To meet someone new. To invest a little more time understanding someone who makes different lifestyle choices, who votes in opposition, whose beliefs are judged, whose past should be understood so they can be seen in a more loving light.
I pray that my open heart will start to crack yours open a little further so that we can dialogue from a place of love and understanding rather than winning and being right.
Our words and actions mean something. Big actions, little actions, being a person of few words or someone of sesquipedalian prose. So I encourage you to find your march, find your cause, don’t be afraid of your voice, don’t be afraid to listen, don’t be afraid to love.
Grace, Peace, and Love my friends.
-Ang
