Marchers numbering in the thousands arrive at the Seattle Center and in view of the Space Needle Saturday in Seattle. Women across the Pacific Northwest marched in solidarity with the Women’s March on Washington and to send a message in support of women’s rights and other causes. The march came the day after Donald Trump was inaugurated as president.
I am not an activist. I was a child during the civil rights movement. Living in Centralia in the ’60s, there was no person of color in the town, let alone my schools. The movement didn’t affect me.
I remember the headlines in The Daily Chronicle screaming the death toll in Vietnam each day, and the draft lottery targeted boys in my 1970 graduating class; but the last protest march in Seattle was just before my freshman arrival at the UW. I was too late.
I admired Gloria Steinem and heard her speak, but I did not consider myself a feminist in the ’70s. The movement didn’t affect me.
I left North Carolina shortly before the controversial governor took office in 2013 and the legislature went insane, missing the Moral Mondays movement. I would have participated. My ire at injustice was a planted seed.
Marriage equality affected me, and I got fired up. Before I left North Carolina, I put a sign in my yard. When I arrived in Washington, I signed online petitions, wrote to my representatives, and wrote a commentary for The Chronicle. Then I went quiet again.
But now I am uncomfortable. I was one of 10,000 at the Women’s March in Olympia on Saturday. I did not march in protest of the election of Mr. Trump. That is done; he was duly elected and sworn in.
I marched because I sense a threat to the rights and privileges guaranteed by our Constitution: freedom of the press, equal rights, freedom of religion.
I marched because I fear the hard-won strides women have made toward equality will be erased.
I marched because of hatred I hear in the rhetoric toward immigrants in America, and because I fear for the well-being of those in our own community who contribute so much.
I marched for my daughter and her wife, to protect their marriage. I marched for my bullied transgender sisters and brothers.
I marched for all who were not born into white privilege.
I marched because I want to send a message that we live in a global society. As the greatest nation on Earth, it is our responsibility to assist, to the full extent of our abilities, those countries whose people are struggling.
I marched because I sense a threat to the strides that have been made to correct the damage we have been inflicting on Mother Earth for decades. The lives of my grandchildren and their grandchildren depend on what the generations of adults living now do about it.
I marched for my 100-year-old mother, whose generation fought hard for the freedoms I enjoy. I marched for my four young grandsons, who deserve the freedoms my generation fought for.
I marched because I feel the moral core of our nation is under attack.
I marched to join my voice with millions of women, men and children around the world. I marched to send a message to Congress that I am watching, that I am expecting them to do their job to represent their constituents and uphold the Constitution, even if it means opposing the administration.
The Women’s March was just the beginning. Since Saturday, I have begun giving money to organizations doing the work I want to see in the world and I have contacted my representative to Congress.
The time is now to step out of my comfort zone. I am a citizen of the world. That which affects my sisters and brothers, affects me. I marched, along with many others in our community, to show them and the world I care. And caring will change the world.
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Gretchen Staebler is a Pacific Northwest native, transplanted to the Southeast and back again 36 years later. She blogs and shares photographs of her beloved Northwest at www.WritingDownTheStory.com
