Deliberate Stepping

By Teresa Barrington Chase I’ve always been a marcher. There’s something so powerful to me about connecting feet to earth—creating a physical commitment with purpose. Deliberate stepping. My early marches were an initiat...

Why I Marched

By Libby Rego I had a bad feeling about this. I remember early in 2016 talking to my mother, a woman who marched for civil rights in the 60s, when he got the Republican nomination. “Oh Libby, don’t worry, he’s … <...

This Is What Democracy Looks Like!

By Patricia Gonzalez I drove to the Metro stop closest to me, hoping that I was far away enough from DC to get a parking spot. I scored a parking spot … and a seat on the train. The first …
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Keeping the Pressure on Congress

By Anne Duffy I went to DC with two friends, my sister-in-law and two nieces. Two of us are retired Buffalo Public School teachers, one is currently teaching, my sister-in-law is an emergency room NP and my nieces are in...
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Not Backing Down

By Linda Amrani There were four of us–my husband, son, and son’s friend joining me–so we drove to Washington DC (more economical). At our rest stop in Maryland we got the first inkling of what the day w...
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I’ll Remember This Day Forever

By Sarah Huck Azulai When I heard about the Women’s March on Washington, I really wanted to go. Although there was a march slated for NYC, something about standing in the nation’s capital, voicing my hopes du...
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The Force was with Us

By Patricia Kuusisto The sky was clear cloudless blue, The silver gray steel high and mighty And the throngs of pink hats attached to white, red, black brown placards and faces held by the generations Paid homage to Moth...

I Marched with My Son

By Lindsay Jankun-Harsch Yesterday my six-year-old son and I marched in a sister march in Poughkeepsie, NY. We marched because I want my son to know that when someone does or says something wrong, you call them on it, no...