Last weekend, as tensions around the inauguration of DJT mounted, we decided to rearrange all of our plans and join thousands of others at the London Women's March. The march was a sister march, in solidarity with marchers in D.C. and, as an American, as a woman and as the mother of two daughters, I felt I had no choice but to be there. Jim, who, obviously, wants his girls to have every opportunity and works hard for equality for women in a male dominated industry (construction), joined us and took pictures.
Walking in the Women's March brought up lots of questions for our girls. The first of which was 'What is a pussy hat?' I tend to address these kinds of questions without beating around the bush, but didn't consider that my older daughter would then be armed with a word that is definitely not appropriate for an 8 year old to be saying. Despite our insistence that she never actually say 'pussy,' unless she is talking about a cat, she spent the next few days angrily declaring that 'Donald Trump thinks he can just grab a woman by the pussy!' Eventually, I put that kibosh on that by making her pay money into our 'bad words' jar at home and insisting that, until she's an adult, she can just call them 'privates.'
We arrived on Oxford Street fifteen minutes before the walk was scheduled to start and found ourselves surrounded by like minded marchers, with signs and smiles, determined to show the world that DJT and his ilk have messed with the wrong sex!
But we only made it about a block before there was a log jam of people and we couldn't go any further. As the crowds packed in, we had the opportunity to read our fellow marchers' signs.
And to be entertained by this woman, who was very likely drunk and also very likely to lose control of her enormous breasts, which were pushing her bra to its very limits as she hung out of the window yelling down to the crowd. Eventually, a man pulled her back inside, which, Evie remarked, was 'Quite rude. He shouldn't be telling her what to do! She can make her own decisions!' I assured her that probably he didn't want his funny friend to fall out of the window onto the crowds below.
After about an hour of standing there, the crowd finally took action, chanting, 'Walk THAT way!' and we headed off in the opposite direction from where we should have gone, blocking Oxford Street and the side streets with our heaving masses.
'What do we want?!'
'Equality!'
'When do we want it?!'
'Now!!!'
Our little girls walked proudly and chanted loudly!
It was an inspiring and heartening day, which left me feeling like I want to do more to make sure that we are not divided based on our race, sex, who we love, what religion we are...and to bring up girls who know their worth in this world.
