The Womens March 2018

Year 2 and I have got this ON LOCK. I tell my friend and fellow-protester Lyvonne to be at my house around 9am (she’s traveling from Ventura with her daughter, India, who attended with mine last year, a friend Laura, and her daughter Georgia. My daughter, sadly, cannot attend, because she has too much homework, grrr).

We catch a Lyft downtown, I tell driver Sam where to drop us, and he does (I later receive an $85 charge because Sam forgot to turn off the meter before traveling to Santa Ana, bless him. Lyft was great, as usual, about reversing the charge).

We enter at around the same place I did last year, and traffic guard asks us, “Can I see the signs?” Why, of course.

We proceed into the crowd, move as far forward as possible, until we’re scrunched with everyone else. I’m slightly concerned that we might not be in position, as I can hear speeches, and Laura keeps asking about them, but we appear to be simply in the midst of something really big.

Then, as we’re waiting, the crowd moves, protesters ahead of us say, “Turn around,” and we do, and now we’re near the front of the crowd, heading to the stage. At one point, I start a round of,



as we traverse the streets of Los Angeles. A woman in roller skates is ahead of me. A metaphor. Keep moving. Roll with it.

We walk through a colorful tunnel, chanting and marching, and I am behind a little boy perched in his father’s arms, wearing a “Womens March 2018” knit hat, his phone number Sharpie’d on his arm, and a protester’s sign, “FEMINIST” forming a halo around his head. He is helping us chant, “Hey, hey, ho, ho, Donald Trump has got to go.” All the feelz…

Our protest progresses. The numbers are bigger than last year, you can feel it, and there is not only a sense of camaraderie, there is also an energy of, We’ve Got This, We’ve Done This, We’re Not Going Away, This is What We Do Now.” And not just the women, men, too. The new normal is protesting this absurd regime of powerful deplorable horribles and we are ALL IN.

Amen, sister.

We get to the end of the protest, and, true to form from last year, we are near the front. We edge closer.

So many great people speak: actresses, activists; there is an urgency to the message as it’s now part of the earthquake that is the #METOO movement. It’s amazing how much can happen in one year.

Georgia’s Gas Station Sushi sign gets a lot of attention, it’s a hit. People take pics all day.

Ultimately, there is a signal that India and Georgia are faltering, they are faint and tired, clearly not as seasoned as the moms, and that’s cool, they’ll get there. Judging from the daily shit show that is the news from this Cabal Administration, there will be plenty more protests to come. We head back to get a ride to grab lunch. More great signs as we exit the park:

And, just as we’re celebrating the huge numbers of Womens March 2018 (650,000 in L.A., 50,000 more from last year), the Florida Parkland massacre happens. Seventh school shooting in the new year, and it’s only February.

So, on to MARCH FOR OUR LIVES on the 24th.

#ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, and I am so proud of these teenagers. There is a movement for gun reform, and it has momentum. Finally.


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2 Responses to The Womens March 2018

  1. Lyvonne M Klingler says:

    beautifully remembered! i love marching with you.

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