‘I should have brought a fucking coat’ I muttered as I stepped out of Westminster station and turned towards Downing Street into the #TimesUp rally. Stoically stood outside Theresa May’s humble abode for the next two hours, by the end I was hardly the picture of an empowered woman sticking it to the patriarchy. Instead I looked like a shivering puppy who’d been left outside in the rain. My voice was hoarse from chanting, my hands were chapped and cold. I was not alone. The girl stood to my right, her hands white knuckled a plank of wood, frozen stiff but defiant like the ‘patriarchy sucks’ badges pinned to her lapel.
I didn’t have a sign to hold but my presence contained the message I wanted to send. As a woman who has experienced domestic violence first hand, I have often shied away from conflict. But there comes a moment where silence is more painful than speaking up. There were women in front of me holding signs in all forms. Big, funny, angry, sarcastic, many with witty punchlines, the best of which were ushered to the front for the purpose of the press. I took great pleasure in reading the sharp quips ‘This is a bloody joke’ one read, with sanitary pads dangling from its edges. I absorbed this humour, this energy, this light like a sponge (or should I say a tampon) because when you’re aware of what we’re here to protest, you have to find something to smile about.
The first Women’s March was held on the same day last year, 21st January 2017. The first day of Trump’s presidency. His election was a catalyst, the straw that broke the long suffering 52% of the populations’ back so we formed, and we rallied under a clear mission:
“We believe that Women’s Rights are Human Rights and Human Rights are Women’s Rights. We must create a society in which women – including Black women, Native women, poor women, immigrant women, disabled women, Muslim women, lesbian queer and trans women – are free and able to care for and nurture their families, however they are formed, in safe and healthy environments free from structural impediments.”
This is not about Trump. This is about us. This is about ending discrimination towards women, ensuring our sisters in Poland, Ireland and other nations have reproductive rights, that ALL women are uplifted and empowered.
Why is it then that we don’t trust women to tell our own story? Why must our protests be dismissed as ‘Trump-bashing’ or ‘attention seeking’? The media loves to write about a villain, to sensationalise a character, but they don’t like to tackle the issue of entrenched cultural misogyny. To dismiss the Women’s March as a superficial movement is the easy thing to do. What’s not easy is to confront the complexity of dismantling a patriarchal society. It’s not easy to collectively admit that this is going to be a hard fight. To accept that this is well and truly unchartered territory, a unified grey area.
This is why the media is so reluctant to tackle it. We women have the vote, we have it good enough already right? The rise of female empowerment is coming at a time when long-form journalism is dying. Without our snappy signs and the association to Trump would the media pay attention? Do they have the capacity to make the nuances of female issues digestible for the culpable masses?
“Our movement isn’t perfect, but it’s here. We work with what we have. We, the minorities, the lowest earners, the emotionally and physically bruised do what we can.”
‘What happens now, you’ve protested, now what?’ in the age of instant technological dopamine hits, the world expects instant gratification and a clear cut perfect performance. The critique on women’s activism is unrelenting. If we only campaigned for one issue, we would be seen as neglecting the other causes. When we campaign for all areas of women’s equality we are criticised for being ineffective and too general. Dismantling a patriarchal civilisation is a general issue is it not? To quote the eminent Roxane Gay “We have this tendency to put visible feminists on a pedestal. We expect them to pose perfectly. When they disappoint us, we gleefully knock them from the very pedestal we put them on.”
Those judging the movement from a voyeuristic high ground of privilege fail to connect with the people behind the issues, or to research beyond their own understanding. Yes, we spoke about Trump, but was also a profound moment where a trans woman, Paris Lees, stood on stage fearing rejection from the crowd but instead was welcomed with applause. Her raw emotion was like a tangible thread of connection running through us all. That is why we were really there.
Our movement isn’t perfect, but it’s here. We work with what we have. We, the minorities, the lowest earners, the emotionally and physically bruised do what we can. We make signs out of cardboard because we can’t donate money to twist the arm of a CEO. We are still mostly excluded from the systems of power to create change, so we have to make our own. Some say it takes seven generations to truly change a cultural behaviour, and to coin a phrase from the march, the thing we are trying to change is the glass ceiling. It starts with a small chip, these chips turn into cracks and then the glass begins to shatter. The Women’s March was one chip.
How are you making a chip in the ceiling?
This article originally appeared on The Nopebook. Follow me on Twitter, Instagram or Pinterest or drop me an email: jlouisemontgomery@gmail.com
