Saturday, January 21, 2017: the day after the Presidential Inauguration, a gorgeous 60 degree day in downtown Cleveland, and a day that will thrive in my memory forever. On this day-- on all seven continents-- millions of women worldwide assembled to march for women’s rights, making a statement that was impossible to ignore. In addition to the massive Women’s March on Washington in Washington, D.C., there were also hundreds of sister marches in major cities, and I attended the march starting in Cleveland’s Public Square. No matter the march, the mantra there was strong and singular: women’s rights are human rights.
The numerous Women’s Marches were hot topics on social media following the events, but instead of defending them or analyzing them (because frankly, you already know where I stand), I simply want to set the scene and describe what happened in Cleveland that day. Whether you attended a march or not-- sit back, relax, and allow me to take you along with me through the streets of Cleveland as I relive one of the most incredible things I have ever been a part of.
I arrived at Public Square a little bit before 10:00 am, when assembling officially began. The unusually warm January weather seemed to be an echo of the warmth spilling out of my heart as I approached the forming crowd of feminists at my first official protest. The crowd in front of me went on further than I could see, and soon, a crowd formed behind us, too. Once my mother and I decided on a place to stand, I looked around and was immediately hit with overwhelming emotion at all I saw: there were hundreds of posters proudly displaying sentiments of equality, strength, and love.
Being surrounded by thousands of other people who all agreed with me on something I feel so passionately about was reassuring: I knew that I was surrounded by strong men and women who were going to make a difference in the world. These were men and women who were much older than me, who are dedicated to standing up for my safety as I grow up in a changing society. These were men and women who were slightly older than me, fighting for how they want their adult lives to look, but also looking out for their children. These were men and women my age, empowered and driven, some of the most vulnerable to changing conditions, but not at all afraid to take a stand. These were men and women younger than me, getting involved early and hoping that their futures won’t include these same types of protests. I was inspired by each and every person standing around me in the tightly-packed crowd stuffed into Public Square. It’s no wonder that I couldn’t help but cry happy tears.
Leading up to the march, there was a rally in Public Square with various speakers, but I was far enough back that I couldn’t hear much of anything. With plenty of fascinating signs and interesting people around me, though, I was never bored. What I could hear were inspirational songs that the whole crowd was singing such as the simple yet sentimental “This Land Is Your Land” by Woody Guthrie and "America the Beautiful" that made mothers and daughters wrap their arms around each other and sway.
I also heard sample chants to be used during the march such as “we are awake; make no mistake,” “love trumps hate,” “this is what a feminist looks like,” “women’s rights are human rights,” and “ho ho, hey hey, women’s rights are here to stay.”
It was all a whirlwind as we began marching. Looking down the street ahead of me, I saw a sea of people that seemed never-ending. The further I looked down the road, the crowd seemed to disappear under a wall of white signs; there were hundreds of them. My words and photos don’t do this crowd justice; it was truly amazing getting a look at the thousands of people filling the street from curb to curb.
I remained astounded by the sight as we marched our way back around to Public Square. Looking around each corner, as far as I could see, the crowd continued, and I was right in the middle of it all. I was there with my beautiful, intelligent, passionate mother, and I was so proud. People all around me were holding hands and hugging their mothers, sisters, friends, and significant others. As we passed the Convention Center, there were people on top of it, leaning against the rails, wrapped in pride flags, cheering us on.
There was so much joy and love surrounding me that I almost forgot the saddening situations that brought us, and millions of others, to march. I almost forgot how devastatingly disappointing it is that so many people are afraid for their rights. In that moment-- and all of the moments from that morning-- standing in the middle of the street with thousands of other feminists, sadness was put on the backburner as strength and love burned brightly, fiercely.
It is my hope that we will reach a point in society when protests for equal rights will be obsolete and unnecessary, but until then, it will be markedly important that people stand, and march, together. The Women’s March on Cleveland was one of the most incredible things I have ever been a part of. Saturday, January 21st, 2017: the day where millions worldwide came together to show that women’s rights are human rights. It is a day that I will remember for the rest of my life.
