Women's March Spokane

The night before the march, there were about ten of us girls in my little apartment. A combination of my roommates and some friends from down the hall, as well as some new faces. But we all sat around with a piece of cardboard, paints, and Sharpies and got to work. Beach House playing in the background, we all sat there creating and talking. It was honestly kind of magical.

The next morning we got up early, sloshed through the snow and icy mush towards downtown Spokane, about a fifteen minute walk from Gonzaga's campus. Adorned with the pink pussy hats, we trudged down the sidewalk, catching mist from the passing cars and buses. Just after crossing a bridge that leads to the convention center, two middle aged men stopped my roommate Olivia. They talked for a bit and then Olivia caught up with the group. One of the men said "if it weren't for you all, we wouldn't be here." With this resonating in mind, we continued our journey with heads held high.

The crowd was massive. Several speakers were kicking off the march with a crowd in the convention center. It amazed me to see so many women, men, and children in one place, for the same cause. Every person, no matter age or color, was united for the same reason.

We began marching and actually ended up being right next to a huge group of volunteers from Planned Parenthood. It was reassuring seeing fellow students, professors, and women from all walks of life right alongside us. After marching around the block we went back to our apartment, car horns praising us in approval as we walked back.

The most proactive thing to do as a young white female like me is to continue fueling my actions with this anger and frustration.

Reflecting on the march and different social media posts I saw after the event was over, a few things come to mind. First of all, how happy I was. It is unbelievable just how massive this day was in our history. After watching one of my favorite comedians, Aziz Ansari, on SNL, he mentioned in his opening monologue that change has always come from really big groups of angry people. And if anything is true after the election and the march, it is that this group does exist. And it is really, REALLY big. 

Another thing that sat with me was the men in the crowd. I just wish I could thank all of the sons, fathers and grandfathers that are standing in anger with us women. Thank you to the sons that have been raised to treat women fairly, the husbands that treat their wives with respect and the grandfathers that understand their granddaughters own the future. After sending some pictures of the march to my dad, he simply sent me a text back that said "Proud Dad." I couldn't have been happier to receive that simple message.

Lastly, and most importantly, is that this march is not the end. We cannot stop at this. I saw a post by Tavi Gevinson, the founder and editor of Rookie Magazine, that quoted Jia Tolentino of the New Yorker Magazine. Tolentino says "if a majority of white women had not voted for Trump in November, he would not currently be president-- and millions of people would not be protesting." I can only imagine that she speaks the truth, as many might have been under the impression that, if elected, Clinton would magically solve all of America's problems. She continues to say that if Clinton had been inaugurated, "how many of the white women who protested on Saturday would feel as if there weren't much about America that needed protesting at all," and I could not help but feeling somewhat guilty after reading this. We have to think about how Trump will be affecting everyone. The most proactive thing to do as a young white female like me is to continue fueling my actions with this anger and frustration. I must be proactive to make these next four years positive and productive. Volunteer and donate to organizations that support LGBTQ, POC, the care of the environment, those with disabilities, the homeless, women's reproductive rights, and underprivileged youth. Here is a website with a list of groups in need of support. I urge you to not stop our own personal march to success. Remember to stand with all women. March on. 

 

Story and Photos By Grace McDaniel

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