When you’re going outdoors in the cold you need to dress in layers and bring a coat. Prepared for a change in the weather, I wondered what else would change today.
Women, girls, men and boys walked 10 – 20 abreast on the hamlet’s downtown streets. They began at
The National Women’s Rights Historical Park, chanted, carried signs, laughed and talked along the way to the First Presbyterian Church – the site of the first convention for women’s rights in 1848, and where today's afternoon rally was slated to begin at noon.
Marchers sign’s messages were as varied as the people carrying them: “Choose Love Choose Hope Choose Kindness”; “Women’s Rights Are Human Rights”; “Hands Off My Pussy” (carried by an old woman in a wheelchair); “A Woman’s Place Is In The Revolution” (carried by a man); and a dog who’s sign read “I Would Never Grab A Pussy.”
There was “Climate Change Is Real, Bigly” and “Honk for Science.”
A man wearing a black shirt and white clerical collar held the message “Girls Just Want To Have FUNding for Planned Parenthood.”
And my personal favorite – black letters on white poster board – “Seriously There Are SO MANY REASONS Why I’m Here and this sign is only so big.”
The day started out chilly but by 11 a.m. the sun had been shining for hours. For Central New York It was an unseasonably warm winter day.
Women who went only for the march walked away from the historic downtown hub in singles and doubles to their cars parked blocks or miles away. Some still wore their coats, accessorized with white, gold or purple scarves and hats. Others carried theirs or wrapped them around their waists.
There was excited chatter on the street. Laughter. And hugs.
Traffic cops at the Cayuga, Fall and Ovid Streets intersection directed cars and pedestrians, keeping each safe from the other.
“Thank you,” a group of women shouted, smiling to the officer who waved them through, as they trotted past.
I walked around the outskirts of the six blocks or so that contained the rally to get a feel for the size of the crowd. Several blocks away I heard the amplified speech of a woman. Following the sound of her voice, I walked through the mud along the railroad tracks to find the throng outside the church.
The parking lot is a courtyard enclosed on three sides by brick buildings and the historic towering church. It was a wall-to-wall sea of women and men and children, strollers and wheelchairs and well-mannered dogs on leashes. The sound from the jumbotron speakers was bouncing off the brick and the words echoed through the neighborhood.
Syracuse Mayor Stephanie Miner spoke to those packed inside the church and the thousands who watched her on the parking lot big screen.
“We’ve lost sight of the fact that we have to work hard for our values,” Miner said. She urged women to step up and run for office, participate in the process, “use your voice.”
Women clapped and hooted in that high-pitched way which only women can. The feeling was excitement, support, love, acceptance, and understanding.
Throughout the crowd, men looked after children while women listened with eyes raised toward the sky (OK jumbotron).
Next up was New York State United Teachers President Karen Magee. She told us the importance of quality public education for all, calling it “the great equalizer.”
One of the three-dozen-plus afternoon speakers was event coordinator Maureen Quigley. She talked about the power of biblical Eve, and Gaea, the goddess of the earth. She detailed her struggle to advocate for her son Hank and the support she received. And when she mentioned Hillary Rodham Clinton’s name, the silent crowd erupted into cheers and applause.
I wondered in that moment if there were Trump supporters in the majority white-woman crowd.
For hours there were speakers entertainers and poets proclaiming from the pulpit support for, or a testament to human rights, equal rights, women’s rights, reproductive rights, and a determination to keep all of them intact.
My afternoon notes were sparse – this day I wanted to be a present observer, not a reporter. (My hope is that in the coming days
there will be videos and transcripts online. It was an emotional day better written objectively with some reflection.)
A few members of the crowd and afternoon speakers lobbed kicks at the divisiveness generated by the new president during his campaign. But for the most part, everyone was respectful of the cause for the day and mindful that its cause was not its impetus.
The November election brought us the day, human rights was the force that moved us.
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| online image, Washington, D.C. |
In the sea of people, suffrage colors of purple, gold, and white were everywhere. In Washington D.C., the women were encouraged to wear pink hats – a knitted hat sewn square so when worn the corners stuck up like pussy cat ears. It was called the P
ussy Hat Project.
Many in Seneca Falls also wore pussy hats.
A woman of advanced age sported a regal purple felt fedora festooned with a sparkling gold band and bow, and in my mind won the award for best execution of a hat.
Women can express complex ideas and look damned good, too.
Thousands of different causes, one impetus – the voice of human beings united has power.
As the afternoon wore on and the crowds started to thin my phone began to buzz. With so many people in such a small community, the nearby cell towers had likely been overloaded for hours. Text messages came in calling me back. It was time for me to go home.
Back on the street others’ conversations drifted in the air.
“Seneca Falls is such a low-key place,” said a woman to her friend.
“We’ve got to get Trump to put a woman on the Supreme Court,” another said as I passed. “He’s pissed off every woman in the United States.”
People clumped together and murmured about the time, lunch, finding others from their group.
The mood was warm, content, and ready to move on.
“No protest is complete without a trip to the port-a-potty,” a woman said to me as she headed toward a line of Blue-Bowls.
“Did you have a good day?” one woman asked from traffic through her open truck window.
“It was a great day,” a woman answered. “I talked to so many new people.”
Grassy spaces emptied as did sidewalks and streets that were clogged with people a little while before.
There was no violence. And not a bit of trash to be seen – not one discarded water bottle, or tissue, or ignored leaflet littered the sidewalk.
There was a purple glove atop a signpost so its owner could find it. A little girl’s bright pink jacket was draped across a railing. Lost and found, on the street. Forgotten items lifted to a place where others could see.
So many feet had padded the ground which was still saturated from the recently melted snow. The grass was matted and muddy. But I imagined in a few more hours there would be little trace of the thousands of people who touched this place today.
It was inspiring being surrounded by so many monuments to brave women and their successes, and humbling to be reminded that we’ve only had the right to vote for four generations.
I chose Seneca Falls because I felt being here where women fought for their most basic right to equality meant something. I wanted to show my support in a place that mattered. Today would be added to its history.
Grandmothers to mothers to daughters, we’re still working on supporting each other. How do we use this impetus for equal rights for all human beings? And how do we unite our impetus as women when the diversity of causes seems to outnumber people?
On the drive home I heard an interview with a woman named Darcy from Tacoma Park, Maryland. She marched in Washington D.C., today along with her nine-year-old daughter and half-a-million others.
She said she supported the new president and the message she took for the day was that women need to seek elected office for their voices to be heard.
“I’m not here out of anger or fear,” she said. “I’m out here out of determination, participation, and hope.”
Me too, sister. Me too.
Suffragists fought for women and in 1920 we won the right to vote; in 2020 we need women for whom we can cast our votes. That’s one new fight.
And bring a coat.
