#WhyIMarch: Women's March On Washington

It was a sky blue Ford mini-van, accented with a few rust spots near the wheels from the harsh salt-filled Michigan winters. The almost constant layer of dust that covered it from the dirt road I lived on made sure that we could draw pictures and write words on the back window -- much to my mother’s dismay. It was topped with a fluorescent orange ball on the antenna; my dad loved how easy it made the van to spot in the parking lot. I hated that car. It wasn’t new or sparkly. It wasn’t fancy like my friends’ parents’ cars. Worst of all it was a mini-van. Could there be anything less cool? But none of that made this vehicle anything special. It was the bumper sticker, stuck brazenly on the center of the back bumper, that I remember. Promently positioned right next to her “proud parent of an honor roll student” sticker was a blue and white rectangle that read “pro-child, pro-family, pro-choice.” In a conservative, small town like ours, this was a statement. I was proud of my mom. I was proud of her sticker. I knew it made us different.

Throughout my entire life, with increasing detail and explanation, my parents educated us about: our rights, discrimination, oppression, justice, social welfare, and about our privilege. They stressed the idea that you can be both oppressed and privileged at the same time. And most importantly, they taught me that I had a duty to work for change and progress. I had an obligation to protect those who need it most, and to fight for my own rights and future. I watched as my dad would leave to join the picket lines when the auto-workers went on strike, and listened as my mother explained to me that my body was mine alone.

For a small town girl, I had remarkable perspective and proximity to lifestyles and struggles that were different from my own -- thanks to my parents. When it came time to leave for college, I felt drawn to DC. It felt like the epicentre of power and protest. I yearned to be a part of it, imagining the power suits I would wear while lunching with lobbyists and congressional staffers. Upon arrival, though, a harsh reality began to set in; I had so much to learn about this place. I learned of the multi-faceted, and mostly convoluted approach required to effect change; I also learned of the often miserably slow rate at which change happens. I was both inspired and discouraged on a daily basis.

During the spring of my Freshman year, as I walked to campus each morning beneath the pale covering of the cherry blossom trees that are so iconic to DC, I listened to the ever changing voices in front of the White House. They were angry, hopeful, and fervent. I honestly don’t remember what the vast majority of them were protesting. A harsh coldness started to develop in me over time. What difference does any of it make? A new group every other day! Is anyone even listening to them? I would think to myself as I navigated through the crowd to cut through to the other side to get to class.

It was that spring -- my first spring in DC -- that my roommate invited me to join her in volunteering to help with the March for Women’s Lives, a rally for women’s reproductive rights spawned largely in response to the re-election campaign that was underway for then-President George W. Bush. Wax Bush! Keep your rosaries off my ovaries! We chanted, nearly 800,000 strong by most accounts. I could feel the fire inside me growing. I remembered my mother’s sticker. My parents' activist voices cheering me on in the back of my head. It was a star-studded event with the support of nearly all the major women’s organizations and many Hollywood activists. But in the eyes of history, many have considered it a failure as it did not stop the reelection of President Bush-43.

This raises the question: Do protests work? Do they matter?

If you have followed the news at all this year or spent any time on social media you will have, undoubtedly, been faced with this quandary, a question that is both philosophical and practical. If you try to google it, “Does protesting work?” you will get every possible response imaginable. You will see articles explaining why our upcoming March has already been doomed to failure by some and championed by others as a showing of solidarity and commitment to the work ahead of us.

The short answer to the question is: yes, protests do work and they do matter. But as is the case with most things in life, the full answer isn’t quite so simple. There are examples where a protest can be easily linked to a direct result of change. Such as when the day before President Woodrow Wilson’s inauguration, approximately seven thousand suffragists marched on the White House. The fallout and public outcry that followed is largely credited with being the catalyst that pushed President Wilson to support the 19th Amendment. Take Back the Night demonstrations, which initially began in the 1970s as a way to raise awareness to combat sexual violence against women, are still a common occurrence on many college campuses today and have even taken the form of a non-profit organization dedicated to taking up the same fight.

While these protests often feel powerful and impactful for the participants, it isn’t always easy to connect one specific protest to lasting political change. Often times, marches, protests and rallies are but one tool that activists use to move the dial forward. Sometimes that looks like legislation or voter turnout, and other times it is something harder to quantify. Coming together, in a show of support to change the hearts and minds of our fellow citizens or lift voices that otherwise would go unheard, has tremendous value even if we can’t calculate exactly how it fits into the overall equation. It is part of that multi-faceted, convoluted approach to change that I found so discouraging in my early years in Washington. Protesting is a part of that bigger picture. It is part of our slow ascent toward progress.

So come January 21, 2017, I will once again join my sisters and raise my voice as we march together to show the world that women’s rights are human rights as part of the Women’s March on Washington. I will march for my mother. I will march for our right to choose. I will march for those unable to join us. I will march toward progress one step at a time.