Washington Women’s March

I marched because I was raised by a bad ass mom and a feminist papa.

 

I marched because, during the march, a brown woman I was with got told by a counter protester that this great country was founded by beautiful people with blue eyes and blond hair and he told her how important it is to get back to that (idiotic illusion) of America.

 

I marched because nearly every woman I know has had an unwanted sexual experience.

 

I marched because anti-choice is anti-woman.

 

I marched because that douche bag Stanford kid got off with a slap on the wrist and a concern over his future while the woman is left to her own devices to repair what he broke.

 

 

I marched because every day his story is repeated.

 

I marched because every day her story is repeated.

 

I marched because homosexuality isn’t a choice but bigotry is.

 

I marched because that is what democracy looks like.

 

I marched because my papa and my uncle and Chris, these fathers of strong daughters, these husbands of strong women, these sons of strong women, these men who have shown me that strong men aren’t afraid of strong women, marched.

 

I marched because I literally could not think of a better way to spend my day.

 

I marched because the hate and the fear in our country breaks my heart again and again.

 

I marched because the love, endurance,  kindness, acceptance and strength demonstrated Saturday in Washington and around the world repaired some of those breaks.

 

I marched because I want to spend more time building up my strong amazing sisterhood and less time breaking myself or anyone else down.

 

I marched because black lives matter.

 

I marched because all lives matter.

 

I marched because optimism is my default, the other option is to dark and exhausting.

 

I marched because equality creates liberty for all.

 

I marched because nasty women make history.