When I heard about the Women's March last year I underestimated the magnitude, and downplayed the importance. After tons of media coverage and pink pussy hats sprawled all over Instagram, I regretted my decision to stay home. So this year, I vowed to myself that this time around I would be there. When the day came your girl was hyped, I even made a sign. I arrived near the central park meeting point and listened to NY's first lady Chirlane McCray’s speech about unity& empowerment. I heard some spoken word, and a few songs performed by some sisters. I was cold and over the introductory stuff but nonetheless ready to march! What I didn't know then was that stage would be the last time I'd see that many Women Of Color (WOC) all together.
As the march commenced I was grateful to be there, but after an hour I couldn’t help but think I should’ve stayed home. Besides the two WOC I came with, I felt out of place. I only saw a handful of sistahs, by handful I mean less than 20. In a cattle crowd of easily over 300 people in a one block radius, I asked myself did I miss the black bat women's signal for the gathering place?! For sure I’d missed the memo. I was so happy to unite, and connect with folks that shared the same disgust for President 45 as I do, but even a uterus tattoo couldn't shake my disappoint. I’m not implying anything, and ain’t writing no thesis on causality but I was simply befuddled, and now determined to blackout 2019’s march.
Yes, I was walking with other women but felt out of place. To be honest we were all ready to go, see why representation matters? In today's times it would be easy to bitch and swear off next year's march. Instead I'm creating a Facebook event ( cause you know that fixes everything) and I’m inviting all of my black peers. First way to get more black folks to come is to meet up in Harlem instead of the Upper West Side.
Leave your thoughts & suggested 2k19 meeting places below.
Peace,
Berenice
