Sunday, January 22, 2017

the weight

Yesterday, women (and men that love them) around the world marched in solidarity with each other. It was truly an amazing thing to watch as pictures and videos of hundreds of thousands of people across every continent rallying together sprung up all over the internet. It was such an exciting day.

The day before - the dreaded day - I was feeling so torn about going to the march in my city. I sat in front of my computer, avoiding listening to or watching what was taking place in Washington. It felt so gross. So wrong. How did we get here? Is this real? Is 1984 finally a reality? Is this the apocalypse? Why even try anymore? What's the point? What's it all for? Why keep going? My couch is cozy so why ever get up? **drama**

Okay, maybe it wasn't that extreme. I try to stop myself from fully going down that mental path. But, let's be real, it wouldn't be take that much to get me there.

I wanted to march. I really did. It felt important. It felt right.

But, also, I was scared. Really scared. What if some crazy pyscho tries to hurt us? What if this peaceful protest turns into something dangerous? **actual thoughts**

Also, I'm 33 weeks pregnant. 33. weeks. pregnant. I'm a month & a half away from giving birth. I get winded walking through the grocery store for crying out loud. My relatively small body has done an amazing job at growing this baby so far but it's also been telling me lately, "Hey, you gotta lay low. We are on the home stretch here. Chill. We gotta cook this baby a few more weeks."

I was really really torn.
I decided to march.
Then I decided not to march.
I wanted to march for myself and for my girl.
But, what if something happened?
I wanted to not march for myself and for my girl.
I decided not to march.
Then, I didn't know.

Call it my first "lesson" in parenthood. Deciding which sacrifice for my little girl was more important.

This is undoubtedly a moment in history that will be remembered for a generations and I want to be able to say that I was an active participant in it. I want my daughter to know that her mama stood up for her when she couldn't yet stand up for herself. Also, I need to take care of her safety. This little Beeb is not even out in the world yet and she's already having me make tough decisions! What is this?! (how am I allowed to be a parent)

So, I sat in inner conflict, as the inauguration inevitably took place, wondering what was the right thing to do. Instead of deciding to march or not to march, I made a donation in my girl's name to the Obama Foundation. That felt good. That felt right.

Ultimately, at the urging of my dear friend Megan, after hearing my concerns, I decided to go to the rally at the end of the march instead of actually marching. It seemed like a happy medium. So, my feminist husband (geez I like him) and I drove downtown, walked ten blocks (which was nearly my limit) to the Capitol Building and joined the tens of thousands of women & men that love them in rallying together. There were pink pussy cat hats & little kids & old kids and assurances everywhere that the future is still bright. That future generations are not doomed to administrations that disrespect women & minorities and that call outright lies "alternative facts." Yesterday helped me believe that the pendulum actually does swing towards justice. It helped remind me that I am bringing my little girl into a world where people will still speak up for her. Simply showing up at the end of the Women's March in Sacramento yesterday was enough to put some light back into my perspective. And for that, I am glad I made the decision I did.

This is a really scary time. It's a scary time for me, it's a scary time for my country. But, all is not lost. And as the Sacramento mayor told us all yesterday, "Peaceful does not mean complacent."

The little girl inside me that nudges & rolls & pushes into my ribs every single day reminds me she is already strong. But, she is yet voiceless, as so many others are. She needs me. The voiceless need me and need us.

Sometimes I feel voiceless.
Sometimes, the literal weight of life inside me prevents me from marching.
That's why I need you. That's why we need each other.


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