Four years ago I stood cold, yet defiant, in a crowd of nearly half a million people marching on Independence Avenue to the Capitol in Washington, D.C. On the day before, Donald Trump had just been inaugurated as the 45th President of the United States. It was the 21st of January, 2017 that saw women and their allies, joined by millions in cities all over the world, march against the threat the new administration posed to reproductive, civil, and human rights. It was the Women’s March on Washington. The largest single-day protest in U.S. history. It was a day for the history books and a day where we all stood together in a show of solidarity and peacefully protested the patriarchal establishment. Four years ago feels like a lifetime.
This blog post was originally envisioned to be a recollection of thoughts and feelings in response to the four years of Trumpism and MAGA. A survey of where we are now as Trump leaves the White House. A requiem for the tragedies and injustices we have experienced. My heart was heavy with the weight from the daily assault on the rights of women, people of color, LGBTQ+ persons, Muslims, immigrants, humanity, and the planet at large. I sent letters and postcards of dissent to senators and representatives. I continued the #DontTrumpWomen campaign, mailing stickers to friends, artists, and activists to keep the momentum alive. I joined in support of #MeToo. I donated money and time to organizations that aimed to right the wrongs and fight the good fight. Progress felt like an uphill battle for all four of those years.
#DontTrumpWomen Trump Head Mask from the Women’s March on Washington.
#DontTrumpWomen artwork and stickers from 2017.
Then yesterday happened. The day on which much of America (and perhaps the world) breathed a collective sigh of relief. Joe Biden was inaugurated as the 46th President of the United States. As I live streamed the ceremony, I hoped all would go off without a hitch. The violent uprising of Trump supporters storming the Capitol building was still fresh on our minds from just one week before. As Kamala Harris was sworn in, a first of many milestones, I couldn’t hold back the tears. It was a moment that was a century in the making. A moment that American women fought to achieve despite the obstacles. A moment to bear witness to #thefutureisfemale.
As I listened to Amanda Gorman, the youngest inaugural poet ever and the first person to be named national youth poet laureate, recite her 723-word piece into the microphone, the moment ... it hit home. One particular verse resonated fiercely with me:
“…And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge our union with purpose, to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.”
As we consider the hill we must still climb and the work that remains to be done, we can take a moment to breathe. To celebrate what has been achieved. To appreciate the moment that will shape future generations to come. We have earned it. Because tomorrow, the work begins again to reset, repair, and rebuild. For me, this moment renews my commitment to art with purpose that empowers women to be free.
