Why I Marched on Saturday

Saturday, January 21^st the Women’s March on Pittsburgh wasn’t my first and probably won’t be my last time protesting. Over 25,000 men and women from all walks of life marched from the Pittsburgh City County Building to Market Square. Such a large turnout jam packed the square to the point that not one more person could fit.

There was no doubt that women are fed up. It did astonish me reading the Facebook comments from women to women asking “Why are y’all complaining? Marching/protesting never solved a thing?”

When a dozen people groan about homework it’s complaining but when millions of people around the globe get together in solidarity to raise awareness about the issues, it’s not complaining! We might have a problem and not just America but the world has some work to do.

We live in a society where someway somehow a racist, misogynistic, homophobic, xenophobe can not only run for president but win. I marched to stand against that. Anyone who says that protesting never solved anything should crack open a history book. Women aren’t complaining women are demanding respect. We’re responsible for raising the future but we don’t have equal pay and for some reason the government would rather regulate our vaginas than guns. One of those is a weapon that destroys lives and the other builds knowledge and balance for generations to come.

“Women don’t have it so bad this is America.”

This is the equivalent of I don’t see color. Which gets an eyeroll from me every time. It’s like when women are quiet we are objectified but when we’re loud we’re bitches. Women aren’t as complicated as the world would make us out to be. We don’t need to be controlled, silenced or educated about our views (maybe the 53% of white women who voted for Trump but that’s another post for another day).

I smiled marching knowing my grandma would be proud with my refusal to be silenced. I met many men and women who were all there to support equality and humanity. Legalize empathy, one of the signs read.

“I like your sign,” a young woman complimented my Pussies Get Shit Done! Sign. If I could blush I probably would’ve.

“Thanks. I’m usually not a vulgar person.”

“No,” she interrupted my apologetic tone.

“It’s not vulgar honey it’s yours! ”

She was right too. All these men and women showed up in solidarity for the world’s most undervalued treasure…the woman.

Did it empower me to march, yes! Did it open my eyes to how far we have to go, yes! Will I stay silent and give our new predator in chief a chance, probably not! If anything this next four years might just bring the most resourceful group together better than ever.