The Day Women Rocked DC

Three years ago I attended the Women's March in Washington, DC. I flew from California, where there were plenty of marches as well, but I wanted to be in our nation's Capitol. I wanted to be in that number. And what a number it was. Completely outstripped any crowd estimates. It made for some uncomfortable moments as I couldn't move (literally, my friends, literally) for a period of three hours while speeches were being given. My friends and I were schmooshed up against the Air and Space Museum, shoulder to should, belly to back. I took a lot of deep breaths and hoped fervently that I didn't have a medical emergency. I even wore an adult diaper, so called, in case my notoriously leaky bladder had problems. I was prepared.


The big take away for me was that 470,000 pissed off people could gather and not have a single act of violence or vandalism. We were united in our love of liberty and equality, and in our protest of what we believed would be an anti-woman, anti-people administration. And by gawd, our worst fears have come true.

I didn't attend this year's march.  After DC, I thought I was done with large marches.  It was a very long and stressful day, and though I was glad to be there, it was a slog.

I became separated from my friends, cell service was non-existent, but I finally caught up with one friend and we hopped a pedicab to get us to our dinner date with the group we came with.  My feet hurt for days after.

Nevertheless, it was inspiring to be with people of all ages, abilities, ethnicities, etc. etc.  I had a ball getting photos of the day.  I have saved mementos from the day, including my pink pussy hat, and hope that one day my grand daughter will see them and treasure them as a part of national, and her grandmother's, history.