I’m supposed to be doing homework. Reading about psychotherapy theories and how to help the least of these. But we’re a week into the presidency of Donald J. Trump (I am not afraid of names) and the least of these are under attack.
It’s been one week since the Women’s March on Washington that I attended in D.C. with a good friend (who rocks extra because she also loves to sing along to music in the car with no shame!). Only one week since millions around the country and the world came together for a moment of solidarity to say No. No to sexism. No to racism. No to homophobia. No to Islamophobia. No to ableism. No to destroying the earth. But even more so, Yes. Yes to equal rights for all people. Yes to immigrants and refugees. Yes to caring for the environment. Yes to fighting for justice.
Was it perfect? Absolutely not. I noticed on the drive from Chicago to D.C. how few women of color I saw at the service plazas. I was more than aware that the majority of those joining the March from the beautiful D.C. suburb where we were staying would be considered upper-middle class. I saw painfully few other Asian American women in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd we stood in for almost 4 hours. It was far from perfect.
I’ve heard arguments about the March and its origin since its inception in November. It was too white. Too rich. Too cisgender. Too easy to jump on board when one had never taken a stand for justice before. All these things are probably true. I have learned that I can be both supportive of a movement AND uncomfortable with the troubling aspects. They are not mutually exclusive. And we have so much to learn for the future.
We are one week into this mess. Only one week. The pain of the numerous executive orders is being felt deeply. It is history repeating itself, only too many Americans believe that they’re on the right side of history, when they’re standing knee-deep in the same shit of those that came before them. The ones who made the exact same horrific, life-altering mistakes that they are making now. Will we ever learn from our mistakes?
I told my classmates this past week that I believe healing happens in moments. We never “arrive” at a place of perfect wholeness. We’re always moving toward the goal ever so slowly. Somedays I feel I’ll never make it.
The Women’s March was only a moment, and like so many moments in our lifetime we could easily let it fade into our memory. In the wake of our current political distress it already feels like so long ago. So, we choose to not let it become a faint memory. Even now, we see more and more people coming together to protest what is unjust and to resist what is evil. One moment at a time we make our way forward in hope of finding healing for a nation.
And we march onward. Onward we march.
