I've seen
memes and comments on Facebook the past few days saying that “The Women’s March
doesn’t speak for me.”
To be sure
about that, though, you need to know what the March was saying. I think it
was very simple. The marchers were asking for respect, equality, safety and
freedom.
They were
doing it peacefully, too. (Those references you hear from Conservatists about violence refer to the previous day, Inauguration Day, demonstrations that were unconnected to the Women's March.)
“I have
equality,” said one of my Facebook correspondents. “Why can’t we (women) just
be happy to be what we are and stop trying to be something we aren’t?” she said.
Men, she
meant. An old stereotype, and false.
Feminism has
been draped with a lot of confusing descriptions. Underlying all of them,
however, is the desire for treatment that confirms equality. Respect for a
woman’s self, mind and body. In law and society.
Equality is
an absolute. You can’t be partially equal.
So keep it
simple. Whatever one’s social position in American culture, if you’re female,
you’re less. Paid less, respected less. Objectified more.
And the usual
source of disrespect, the focus of demeaning, unwanted attention, is a woman’s
reproductive equipment.
A male
candidate for president brags on tape about groping women’s genitalia. The very
part of a person we warn our children that strangers must not touch.
When someone
grabs you in that way without invitation, it’s a crime.
“Men talk
like that.” Some women said.
But even
when it is “only talk,” it assumes dominance. He assumes he has a right to
humiliate you, to hulk over you, and know that there is nothing you can do
about it physically. The only thing preventing rape, broken bones or death is
the man’s good will and self-control. (And, if we are lucky, an effective judicial
system.)
Many women reacted
viscerally to the taped conversation and to the body language candidate Trump
expressed in the second debate. Remember how he loomed over Secretary Clinton,
invaded her space with his size and weight? A tactic, no doubt.
But it reminded
many women of personal experience. It reminded them of unwanted fondling in the
workplace or from strangers. Of catcalls on the sidewalk. Of verbal abuse,
punches, and yes, rapes.
The
frequency of personal invasion is shocking. At work, in school, in social
situations, even at home, among the women I call my friends, not one has
escaped it.
If you want
to know why there are so many people upset and disturbed about our new
president, this is one reason.
The issue is
power, of course. The human drive to power over others.
Power is the
basic American currency. A show of power, real or pretended, is required. Football
enables viewers to bask in the glow of hyper-masculine strength, just by
watching. Open carry laws bring that feeling into the supermarket and café.
Human beings
need to feel powerful to varying degrees. It’s a part of competence, maturity,
mental health. Where it goes wrong is when it becomes a matter of controlling
other autonomous individuals.
The need to
control others can be ugly. Can lead us to dark actions.
That may be
why most of us don’t want to examine it too closely. Introspection is not
popular in a Republican White House. Both Bushes, as well as Trump have
admitted to steering well clear of the process. They can’t take the risk of
discovering the measure of their own weakness.
But without
introspection, many important things can escape notice. And Power has a way of
dismissing what it fails to notice.
The Women’s March
made dismissal more difficult. It brought the attention of the world to bear on
how our new government intends to exercise its power. It puts millions of faces
on the people our government’s actions will affect, for good or ill.
That’s why
the women marched, all races, colors, creeds, national heritage; all varieties
of gender and orientation and age. Peacefully, worldwide. They were saying
women’s equality, human equality, matters. Don’t forget that. Don’t overlook or
dismiss it. Don’t destroy it.
And the men
who understand the stakes marched with us. Even my 95-year-old husband who
couldn’t walk far. He was there, with me, supporting equality.
Why? I
asked. Because I think of myself as a fair-minded person, he said.
It’s as simple as that.
(A version of this appeared in the Feb. 2, 2017 Fayette County Record.)
