Reflections After the March
There are many reasons why my daughter and I Marched on Washington just a few weeks ago. It would be easy to think it was about politics, but that is not the case.
My daughter just turned 17 and a part of me knew she needed to see (and be) democracy in action, if she was to truly value the gift of freedom. As we shuffled, tiptoed and stepped – tightly packed in for 8 hours amongst a tsunami of 690,000 people – we experienced a reverberating solidarity that was felt through and through. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and creatively – we connected as the biggest team building exercise on the planet. And, for me, it was church.
How exciting it was for this middle aged woman to raise her fist in the air and shout loud. It took me a while to get the courage up, as if I was doing something wrong. But then, I realized… I, too, needed to be democracy in action.
While we each came intending to protest a topic, our individual interests melted away upon becoming swallowed by the gathering crowd; and, quickly, our individuality morphed into one voice. Simply stated, the crowd (some 7 million strong across the globe that day) called for the re-formation of national vales and policies including professionalism in leadership, freedom from persecution and tyranny, equal human rights, and government representative of all people. This was the collective prayer that day, expressed in sign, song, sharing and silence.
Even the doubtful and attackers stood in awe, and those watching on television at home.
But, in all truthfulness, experiencing democracy was not why I really marched.
I marched in celebration of my survivor spirit and the removal of the karmic stain left behind by my sexual assault trauma experience at the age 17; an event that left a 30 year trail of damage on mental and physical health.
I marched so my daughter would always know she had a right to give voice to her injustices and a right to manage and protect her own body.
I marched for my mother who was the first in our family of women to break the glass ceiling of women in professional leadership.
I marched so that the culture of sexualizing girls and women across the globe can be redirected into respect and dignity.
And I marched so that I, too, could publically give voice to - and thus release - the PTSD remnants of powerlessness honed through victimization; so that I can finally Rise With Honor. There was no doubt hundreds of thousands of women and MEN marched for this very same reason that day.
And this, my friends, is a national healing movement long overdue.
That is why I do not believe the marching will stop; healing is still needed and ceilings still need to be broken; the collective cry for balance in power is her rallying cry.
Take good notes; history is changing. And all politics aside, I am so very grateful to have the freedom to take an active part in making that change.
Controller at Component Systems Inc.
7ySo glad you and your daughter were able to make the march in Washington. My daughter, niece and best friend went to the one in Cleveland. We can not be silent any more!