I’ve tried
a variety of different approaches for this blogpiece on why I marched in the Women's March Bristol on a beautiful Saturday in January, and why I will march again for women’s
rights, and the rights of any marginalised group who has been threatened by the
swing to the right in politics over the last few years. It’s hard to distil my
thoughts and feelings into a neat piece of writing as there is so much, so much to say, and so much emotion (not a dirty word) tied up with the events of recent months. It’s hard to know what
approach to take. I've tried levity but it turns into something far more heartfelt
and serious. Oh, I wish I could joke about this stuff but it’s just not that
fucking funny.
I’ve been a
woman, or at least female, for all of my natural life. Without question, some
of the most negative experiences of my life have been because I am female. Let’s
just say that I am all too familiar with the orange hate-peddler’s particular brand of malignant narcissism. He invades too many of my screens - a constant reminder of past trauma, and how
dysfunctional western civilisation (such as it is) has become that such an
obvious charlatan should get into the White House. I’m sure I’m not the only
woman who shudders with recognition, or who feels physically sick at the
injustice of rewarding a bigoted, misogynistic serial abuser with the highest
office in the western world. We don’t just fail to punish the toxic male in our
society. All too often we roll out the red carpet and invite them to cause even
more destruction.
And I was
lucky enough to be born in a country which is relatively progressive on such
matters. I’m not forced to conceal my body and face with a swathe of fabric,
and I was not married off to an ancient cousin and forced to have numerous
babies before I even reached proper adulthood. Believe me, I am grateful for these
far-from-small mercies. And when I marched on Saturday, I marched for all women
everywhere. We have to spearhead the movement because our sisters in countries
like Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia and Somalia are simply trying to survive.
Just as the vote for women came first in countries like ours, it gradually followed
in the developing world. Sadly, that’s just how it works, and if we can’t get
it right here, it’s unlikely to happen in the countries where serious human
rights abuses happen every day as a matter of course. 
Back in
November, Trump’s election to the leader of the free world (how hollow those
words sound now ) felt like a personal affront to me and all the women I care
about who have in their various ways put up with so much shit. It felt personal,
and so to march was a personal undertaking - a way to take back some of the
power we so desperately need and deserve, and which is chipped away, little by
little, often not with the obviously terrible stuff but the things that grind us
down and exhaust us. Things like being shouted at in the street, being trolled
online, doing a disproportionate amount of the unpaid domestic work, seeing
next to no realistic female bodies on any billboard anywhere etc etc, ad
nauseum. It’s tiring and it’s boring. Too many women are tired of not being
listened to, of not being taken seriously when we say, really, this is just too
much now. When misogynistic parliament troll and Conservative MP Philip Davies can
filibuster anything that has the faintest whiff of doing something good for
women, and domestic abuser Floyd Mayweather gets to speak at the Marriott in
Bristol for anything up to £1000 per ticket on International Women’s Day (ffs) we
know we’ve still got a long way to go.
Let’s face
it, marchers for causes everywhere come off rather well in the history books.
The
Suffragettes, the Civil Rights Movement in America, the protests against the
Vietnam War, and more recently the women in Poland who protested againstpunitive abortion laws and forced their government to back down - they are all
essential to creating a decent, free and liveable society. So called ‘alpha male’
types like Hitler, Churchill, Stalin, Trump? Not so much.
So on that Saturday
in January 2017, when myself and several friends and a puppy took part in what was
reportedly the biggest and most peaceful mass demonstration ever, we helped make
a little bit of history. Not just women’s history but all of humanity’s
history. There aren’t adequate words to express my admiration for those women who
pulled together this massive feat of unity against our common foes of darkness,
ignorance, bigotry and division, not least our very own Carly who organised the
march in Bristol in only three days. I’ve since had a chance to meet Carly properly and thank her for her efforts. She is a
genuinely warm and inclusive person with a determination to change things for
the better. The world needs more heroes like her. If Saturday’s marches and the
subsequent demonstrations are anything to go by, there are plenty of heroes out
there, of all genders and races.
On a final
note, there was real love and a sense of possibility and hope in our procession
from Queens Square to Cathedral Green. I want to live in the world where these
are the voices I hear, where women as well as men are allowed to have a voice,
where our needs are taken into consideration instead of dismissed as a fringe
concern or ‘minority’, where women are not hit twice as hard by austerity cuts
as men, and where women are considered to be truly, fully human.
Together we
are stronger and we must not forget that, no matter how many frightened little
men and women try to tell us otherwise. We have a long way to go before we see
true equality for all and we cannot let this man and others like him win.
We
are powerful together. And we will march again.
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