This Post Has No Title … Or Answers
“Homecoming (Bluebirds)” by Charley Harper, Cincinnati, Ohio
*Warning: Possible Rambling Ahead. *
Yesterday was the Women’s March on Washington, although it wasn’t contained to DC. By the time I checked my Twitter feed at dinnertime, cities all over the world were filled with people marching in solidarity in the name of women’s rights and basic human rights. It was moving to see all the photos and read the numbers of people who participated. I so wanted to join them.
Why didn’t I?
Oh, I had all kinds of excuses. There was a march in my hometown on Friday evening (Inauguration Day), but it happened during dinner and I wasn’t feeling well. Yesterday, it looked as though all of Indiana showed up to march for women in Indianapolis. I seriously thought of going, but I was afraid of getting lost in the crowd, of not being able to find my way back to my car, of what might happen if the march grew violent. Etc. Etc. Etc.
So, where did I end up? Hiking around a ten acre lot with my family and our realtor, trying to decide if it might be a good building site for our future home.
Yes, that’s right. While people were marching for the rights of women and the underprivileged everywhere, I was traipsing around in the woods, wondering how many trees would need to be cleared in order to fit a two-story house with a full, walkout basement and a bit of a yard. Trust me, I see the irony.
The guilt has been around for a while. It’s been making itself quite comfortable in my head for some time now.
My biggest excuse–the one I keep telling myself is my best reason for avoiding marches and protests–is my family. I’m a wife and mother, and I worry about what would happen to them if I were to get arrested or injured. But that’s really not a good excuse, because there have been countless women all over the world who have sacrificed themselves for the greater good. They didn’t put their families ahead of their fight for justice … or they did put their families first, because that’s what they were fighting for. Or maybe they didn’t even have a choice in the matter. Maybe they were just fighting to survive.
I’m sitting here on my soft bed in my comfortable home typing these words after millions of people risked themselves yesterday to show our new administration they will not accept who and what has been voted into office. I feel pathetic. I should have been there with them. Yes, I sent a donation to Planned Parenthood on Inauguration Day as my own protest, but no excuse should have stopped me from joining in yesterday.
And yet …
Today, my Twitter feed exploded with people praising the marches, but also reminding everyone it was only Day 1. There is still so much fighting to do. Several people pointed out how very few, if any, arrests were made. Several other people pointed out the low arrest rate was due to the majority of protesters being white women. Police policed differently yesterday because of racial bias. I totally got that. In fact, one of my favorite science fiction authors shared several tweets about the differences between the policing of the marches yesterday and the police brutality of past Black Lives Matter rallies. I, thinking I was extending some sort of … hell, I don’t know what I was trying to do, tweeted her the following message:
“I wanted to go to our local BLM rallies and Women’s March. Found excuses not to go to either (my kids, my health). Feel guilty [about] it. 
