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Why I March(ed)

 

On January 21st, I went to Washington D.C. and protested the anti-feminist policies of our Commander-in-Cheeto. I brought my daughter because I knew she had to experience it too.

The experience was invigorating as it was overwhelming. You’ve never seen so many people in your life. Being one of the many doesn’t make you feel hopeless but the exact opposite: hopeful. The fighting spirit, the smiles and chants were the first thing that had brought my blood pressure down in months.

Everything I had been doing felt like it was falling on deaf ears. I donated money, I read the papers and magazines and used Twitter as my up-to-date news. But it all didn’t feel like much.

I felt deflated in the face of the incumbent administration. I realized at this march, surrounded by every gender, race and creed, that actions continue to speak louder than words. It’s easy to think you’re contributing from behind a screen but Washington showed me that we must show up.

But a million of us can’t march every day. But we can send letters, make phone calls and plan the next march. For today, check out 5calls, which shows you which issues are most at stake and which representatives and officials you can call to make yourself heard. No action is too small, if it is action.

 

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