On Saturday I was one of nearly 3 million Americans who joined the Women’s March on Washington. I didn’t want to go. I’d had a long week. I’m easily overwhelmed by crowds. And frankly it sounded much more appealing to stay home on the couch with my kindle and my cats. But last November I wrote this post vowing that never again would I sit back on my heels and watch the political landscape pass me by, and I knew I’d be sorely disappointed in myself if I didn’t keep that promise. So I went. And I marched. And afterwards I shared the below words on my Instagram feed. I’m sharing them here too because they’re strong words. They’re thoughtful words. They’re the kind of words I don’t often have the courage to write on this blog—because they’re not perfect, and because they reveal more of myself than makes me comfortable. But change never came from staying comfortable, did it? And I’m committed above all to being the source of growth and progress in this world, starting with myself. So here the spirit of getting messy, imperfect, and uncomfortable in the name change, here goes.
“When my daughters ask me why I marched on 1.21.17, I will tell them I marched for their father’s grandmother, born and raised in Mexico and arrived in the United States in 1964, ever after a champion of this country and the freedoms it bestowed upon her family of five daughters. I will tell them I marched for their mother’s grandmother, born and raised in Nazi Germany and arrived in the United States in 1954, ever after a prisoner of her childhood legacy of hatred and fear. And I will tell them I marched for their own mother, born in California but raised in Canada where diversity is de facto, universal health care inalienable, gender equality unquestionable, and gun control a given. I will tell them I marched for her eyes, shining with tears in a vision of peace and dignity. I will tell them I marched for her heart, cracked wide open in a human sea of beauty. I will tell them I marched for her soul, resplendent with the infinite possibility of infinite voices united in a single chorus of love. And with those stories of courage and heartbreak and hope, I will tell those daughters of mine: I marched for them.”
Images: Audrey Bodisco Instagram.