March, interrupted: When plans go South

By Julie M. Friesen

I’m at the center of the world right now, but soon I’ll go far right of center, to Southwest Georgia. My husband has lost a grandmother, and his mother has lost her mother. I need to be there, meaning I can’t be here.

After November 8, a groundswell movement has given me hope. Its extent is not apparent to the public yet, as the media is understandably busy covering the agenda of the new administration and the constant provocations of its leader.

Meanwhile, I’m getting invitations to secret Facebook groups. I’m reading the Indivisible Guide, that teaches those of us inexperienced in civic activism how to hold our members of Congress accountable. I’m watching grassroots-born rallies mushroom all over the country. I’m overhearing an acquaintance at a party casually mention holding resistance meetings in his living room.

As much as I dread January 20, I look forward to the 21st, the day the resistance moves from living rooms and secret groups to the streets of the nation’s capital.

I wanted to be there to make the statement that we will not sit casually by while our rights are infringed—and not just women’s rights, but First Amendment rights, Voting Rights, and Equal Protection rights.

We don’t approve of the discourse, especially that taking place in 140 characters or less. We don’t approve of the advisors or Cabinet nominees. We don’t approve of the proposed legislation. We don’t approve of the bizarre flirtation (and fear the possible collusion) with Vladimir Putin. We don’t approve of the ethics conflicts that are being minimized or outright ignored. We don’t approve of the attacks on the press. Or Muslims. Or immigrants. Or women. Or Black people. Or people with disabilities. Or the LGBTQ community. Or individuals like John Lewis.

We’re here, too.

Instead of marching in D.C., I will be driving past fields dotted with cotton and Trump-Pence signs. After the funeral, I’ll sit with my in-laws who voted for DJT, watching Fox News and biting my tongue raw. But, though I can’t be at the march, it still gives me hope to know that our freedoms of assembly and speech will be vividly on display. This time, I’ll put my voice on the page. Next time, I’ll take it to the street.

We have a voice so long as we exercise our right to use it. And that can be done anywhere, even in Southwest Georgia.

Julie Friesen is a lawyer in Baltimore, Maryland, and a writer in her living room.

Photo credit: Daniel Oines via a Creative Commons license.