It was huge (I won't be surprised if it's over a million, at final count.) I was at an Obama inauguration weekend, and at an Obama Inaugural concert, and the streets were packed, and this seemed approaching that in numbers. It was a great celebration of women, of diversity, of equality. And it was so positive. We marched together, we chanted, we met people, we admired each other's signs, we were polite, and kind and compassionate and loving and caring . . . it was seriously AMAZING. I marched with several cartoonist buds and a singer/songwriter friend of mine. We kept commenting to each other about how amazing and friendly this all was. How kind people were about little stuff like helping you by, or stepping on your toes by accident, or laughing about using the men's rooms, or being told that there was a 3.5 hour wait at Oyamel, for supper. (BTW, PROPS to Oyamel, and Gordon Biersch, handling a crazy amount of people, in a professional manner! What a buncha pros!) The signs were great. The chants were hilarious and/or sobering.
PINK WAS EVERYWHERE. I'm not a pink person, but I was yesterday :)
I want to post more about the March, and I will. But I've noticed that in some of the media coverage, the attempt has been made to narrow our focus, to say it was about one specific right or another. It was about a lot of things. It was about unity, acceptance, open arms, shoring each other up after a devastating election; it was about choice, it was about fighting misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, and racism. It was about inclusiveness, and acceptance, and open arms. And I'm gonna say it: It was about love. Love which accepts people, and promotes them, and wants them to be recognized and embraced.
There were zero arrests. The police and Metro workers were friendly, helpful, and professional. The streets were packed. I lived in DC for years, until recently, and have been around a lot of protests and marches. This was . . . special. We were in awe.
There was joy. It was cathartic.
I want to say all this to you so that when your friends or your leaders try to denigrate it, call it names, paint it with the wrong brush, you'll know someone you can ask about it. Matter of fact, there are hundreds of thousands of people you can ask. And not just in one city. And not just in one country.
And, so, it was big, and it was beautiful. And it was encouraging.
As a person of faith, and by this I mean, a Jesus freak of sorts (no longer evangelical), I was thinking, I wish Christians loved on those of different stripes, I really wish people who say Jesus matters to them, could show up and love, in these numbers; as much as I see people here today reaching out to everyone, and then some . . . thats what I was thinking. It didn't steal my joy, though. And that's another blog.
I'm in an afterglow of sorts.
Yesterday we saw women and men and people of all ages, marching, all over the world. In support and affirmation of many different people, but maybe especially WOMEN.
Thanks for that, y'all.
My soul needed it. And I love y'all for getting out and showing up, and all of you who wrote me notes and texted me encouragement, and all of you who printed my art onto signs, and marched with it, and all of you who were with us in spirit, if not in body. Proud to march with, and for, you.
Onward and upward! Now back to the nitty gritty.
We call, we write, we speak, we fight.
NOTE ON THE PHOTO: The sign I'm holding is an edited version of my "How Many" cartoon (see previous post) for RESIST, the women's comics protest paper and site, curated especially for the March. My friend with me in the pic is Barbara Dale, a dear bud and a hoot of a cartoonist. The picture was taken by Ann Telnaes, cartoonist for the Washington Post. She's kickass, too!