They came. The call went out and … they came. In Washington, yes. In Los Angeles. Boston. Chicago. In Denver, and in Austin. But also in Bethel, Alaska where the high temperature for the day was -21. They came in conservative strongholds like Lubbock, Texas and Colorado Springs. They marched in Oxford, Mississippi, and in Oklahoma City. They marched in London and Paris and Madrid and flooded the streets of Amsterdam. They marched on the tiny Isle of Eigg in the Scottish Hebrides, and by their thousands in Nairobi. They brought their children. They got up in retirement homes where even 101-year-old feet showed they could still march.
They invented chants. And songs. They created signs that were clever, arch, hilarious, artistic, defiant, angry, touching, and heartbreaking. They wore T-shirts in sunshine and coats in the driving snow. They wore those glorious, glorious hats.
It was beautiful. So beautiful that it sometimes hurt to watch—in the best possible way.
After a day that seemed so dark, where it felt like hope had been crushed and the light had been dimmed, when optimism seemed lost and justice diminished, they showed that there is still a word that means all those things, all at once, and much, much more.One of the ways that media, especially conservative media, attempted to tiptoe around the size and enthusiasm of the marchers, was to spread their motivations on the wind, saying they were there for “diverse reasons.” People had come out to support family planning rights, or immigration, or LGBT rights, or (insert cause here). And they did. But they were all there because of the threat that Donald Trump represents to those causes. Yes, it was a march for women’s rights, but it was also a rebuke to the language, goals, and person of Donald Trump.