This is What Democracy Looks Like
500,000 people… or thereabouts. And I was one of them.
Saturday, January 21st, 2017, Washington DC: the day after the presidential inauguration of Donald Trump, the day of the Women’s March on Washington and 670 Sister Marches worldwide.
Chartered buses dropped off passengers. Cars lined up at Metro station parking lots. And masses of people filled the Metro cars. Women and men, many wearing pink pussy-hats. People using walkers and canes. Grandmothers, teenagers, children. People of all shades of black and brown and white. Many of them carried handmade signs, ranging from lewd to amusing to clever.
Women’s Rights are Human Rights
My Body My Business
Free Melania
It must be bad, even the introverts are here
You have awakened the dragon
Despite being jammed into Metro cars, the mood was buoyant and behavior civil.
From the stations of Metro Center and Judicial Square, L’Enfant Plaza and Federal South West, the people streamed, climbing escalators that had been turned off for safety’s sake. They filled Third Street leading up to Independence, the site of the rally stage. They filled all the surrounding streets, waiting for the march planned to take them west on Independence, then north on 14th Street, and west again to the Ellipse, close to the White House. As more people arrived,
the crowds were packed closer and closer together. From time to time, the call went out, “Medic! Medic!” and the crowd squeezed together to allow room for an ambulance to get past.
On Seventh Street where I stood, young men and women climbed trees for a better view and sat on the walls around the Hirshhorn Museum.
Large screens had been set up to broadcast the speakers and singers at the rally, but it was difficult for the crowd to see, and the sound system could not carry to the massive crowd. For the most part, the crowd stood patiently for over four hours, though every now and then a group would begin to shout, “We want to march!”
About two o’clock, the word began trickling out that the crowd was too large for the original march route. “To the Mall!” some called, and the people began an exodus. Marchers filled the Mall and moved onto Constitution Avenue and toward the White House. They gathered in front of the Old Post Office Building, now the site of the Trump Hotel, shouted slogans and booed, and piled their signs on the sidewalk.
It was late evening before the last of the people left.
When I talk to people who were there, what do they say about the day?
Amazing
Exhilarating
Exhausting
Joyful
Hopeful
Energizing
And we will need that energy for the road ahead.