I faced my blank posterboard thinking about what I wanted my sign for the Women’s March on Washington/St. Paul, MN to say. I could barely focus. There was and is so much that needs protecting. So, I concentrated on what is most dear to me.
With whom do I want share a united front? Who will be most marginalized by this new president? Who has already been attacked? Who is living in fear, looking at four years under this administration? Just then, I knew what to put on my sign.
I march for my Muslim friends (who were verbally attacked the day after the election).
I march for my Somali neighbors (who are vilified by strangers and by people I know).
I march for my LGBTQ family & friends (who wonder if they will still be able to get married, to adopt children, to have equal access to housing and careers).
I marched so everyone could see my sign, “a sign”, a signal, a light, my message … that I see them, I care for them, I support their right to a life here in Minnesota (and in the United States). A life that is full of equal opportunity. I marched for them and with them. I marched for them because I recognize my white/cis gender/straight privilege.
I acknowledge that I could float through the next four years with my outrage tucked inside the walls of my home. I could be silent. I am not the target of the angry minority who voted for this president. But silence & pacificity is not for me. … so I marched.