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Why We Marched

“A thousand people in the street

Singing songs and carrying signs

Mostly saying, “hooray for our side

It’s time we stop

Hey, what’s that sound?

Everybody look—what’s going down?”

—Buffalo Springfield, 1966

I’ve always been socially/politically active—through words. But being a younger Baby Boomer, I had just started high school by the end of the ’60s and then college, work, marriage, kids...I guess, until now, I never met a cause that so motivated me beyond my pen and onto my feet.

And, I’m obviously not alone, as was evident by the more than million people who joined in women’s marches last week in cities big and small, even small towns, across the U.S—and the world.

I gathered a group of girlfriends from Essex to East Haven, who have all been having similar symptoms: sleepless nights, unpredictable crying, rage, fear, migraine headaches, you name it.

We decided we had to do something besides stew and worry and watch the news. And so many ways had serendipitously presented themselves for us to connect and unite and make our voices heard.

We chose New York City, particularly because, yes, it was easier than going to D.C. (I’m astonished and encouraged by the sheer number of women from the shoreline alone, who braved Washington, a lot of them in one very long day.) And, for me, New York is the hub of the world, my city, where my immigrant grandparents settled, and my parents grew up, and I grew up nearby, and where I worked my first real job. Also, being directionally challenged, I can fairly easily find my way around Manhattan.

We boarded the train in New Haven where our nucleus of four would be picking up another three along the way and in Grand Central. I was amazed to run into friends from Stony Creek and Guilford in the New Haven station, who were converging with another 60-plus women and had even reserved their own train car!

Of our group, only two of us had previously participated in women’s marches: Karen Isaacs of East Haven, my friend and fellow Shore Publishing theater critic, and another “friend-forever” from Long Island.

I asked my friends who were sitting next to and across from me on the train if they would share their thoughts about the day ahead.

Me: Why are you going on this march?

Nancy Elizabeth Wallace (Branford): This is the first time I feel everything is at risk: civil, human, women’s rights, the environment, our place in the international community. It goes on and on...

Theresa Donovan (Branford): I think it’s important to show Trump that he’s not really speaking for our country, particularly women. It’s an important visual to make sure he understands a huge part of the population in this country is not supporting his policies and values.

Carla Feroni (Essex): This is the first march I’m participating in, but in the past I’ve stood up for worker’s rights and the environment. I feel it’s important to show that we’re not going to accept that which we feel imperils people’s lives and the environment.

Me: What are your hopes, expectations for today?

Wallace: To be part of a spirited energy and feel the power.

Feroni: That through unity of sheer numbers of men and women out there today, the country will see we are a force and that we’re not going away.

Donovan: A strong, peaceful showing of unity and concern for what could be lost—loss of Obamacare very much concerns me.

Me: Do you have any worries about violence?

Donovan: I’m hopeful there won’t be any violent instigators. I want it to be peaceful. But I have boots on if I have to run!

Wallace: I made a decision not to be afraid.

Feroni: I have no fears, only hope for a bright future.

Once we got to the start point, Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza, from where we were to be marching to Trump Tower in groups alphabetically, it was sheer chaos, but calm chaos.

The official word was that the originally estimated 100,000 marchers had risen to 250,000 and then, by some estimates, even higher, there was no way to organize the massive crowds that filled the streets for blocks and blocks. We could barely hear the speakers where we stood, unmoving for hours.

And yet, it was a remarkable, wonderful experience. I decided it was about the journey, not the destination, and talked with friends and strangers alike—women, men, and children. We were led in chants and songs—and started our own—and everyone was positive and kind.

Cheers went up when police cars drove by (acknowledging that they were watching our backs), and when truck drivers beeped their horns in solidarity. Astonishingly, there wasn’t one arrest or major disruption throughout the day related to the march. Any anxiety and fear I had quickly melted away. I have never felt to safe in a crowded city.

The signs we all carried were a major part of the experience. Although some of them did not follow Michelle Obama’s directive: “When they go low, we go high” and took cheap shots, for the most part they were thoughtful, sincere, empowering, and laced with lots of edgy New York humor, which we all needed.

Exhausted and exhilarated, we headed home late that afternoon. When we had collapsed in our seats on the train, I once again put on my reporter’s hat.

Me: Did the day meet your expectations/hopes? How do you feel about what you just experienced?

Donovan: I’m glad I went. I expected a little more organization, but I was really impressed by how nice and peaceful everyone was. I really felt that solidarity of purpose.

Wallace: I’m exhilarated, hopeful... but fearful that DT, his advisors, his cabinet, Congress will not stop and listen and change their dismantling agenda. What I took away from the day is the need to find ongoing, do-able, multiple, and creative ways to fight for and protect the decades of rights and gains that have been made.

Feroni: I’m excited to have been part of the movement and to have been able to be there for all women and those women who couldn’t make the march, for my daughters, and granddaughter. Our work is not over. It’s just beginning.

Amy J. Barry is a Baby Boomer, who lives in Stony Creek with her husband and assorted pets. She writes features and reviews for Shore Publishing newspapers and is an expressive arts educator. Contact her at www.aimwritect.net.