Yesterday I intentionally skipped in the inauguration, as many other Americans did. I’m still in disbelief that the Obamas aren’t our first family and that Trump indeed won the election. Nobody’s jumped out from around a corner yelling, “You’ve been punked, HAHAHA!” like I’ve been hoping for over the past two and half months. But today I jumped out of bed--rushing down the stairs to clear our dining room table, spreading out the images I had collected from one of my favorite street artists, Shepard Fairey, shuffling laundry upstairs, and then texting friends to drop by for an impromptu sign making party before the Women’s March began a block down from my house. When I first heard mention of our local march I wondered what it’d be like? Five or so ladies standing around in the circle thrusting signs into the air until they got wet and cold and then I would invite them over for tea and cookies? With further thought, conversations, and a look at a nationwide map of the sister marches happening across our country in solidarity with the march on Washington my “why” rapidly shifted. Emily decided to skip her breastfeeding class in favor of marching with her growing babe as a more meaningful feminist move. We giggled and used school supplies as we thought of sassy slogans and discussed how cool it is going to be for her to be able to tell her daughter that she too was part of the biggest protest in U.S. history. My neighbor dropped by for pink construction paper and Oscar showed up in his bee costume with mamma Mag ready to attach a sign to his backpack carrier. Lizzy and Jesse walked up to the door just in time to join us on our way to the march. My mom had already arrived and was sending inquiring texts. Over 500 area residents showed up in a town of 487 people. More than once I heard myself saying out loud, “this is why I live here” and it must have passed through my thoughts a million more times. Everywhere I looked I saw my favorite people or someone that I wished I saw more of. Someone that I needed to hug. Solidarity. Community. Love. This was it. Full heart. Marching through town to our lake, traditional songs sung by tribal women on the ice as we hummed along to their Ojibwe eloquence, brunch, and giggles with my crew and suddenly I was tucked in back home watching movies the rest of the drizzly January day thinking about how proud I am of where I call home. How important and easy it is to be a participant in this community. The people here are hungry for collaboration and participation. I couldn’t feel a stronger sense of belonging. Thankful for my mamma showing me how to be a feminist, proud of my step dad for marching, and grateful to be linked in arms with my best friends beCAUSE. The future of this country and the world is surely unstable, but today, even just for a moment I couldn’t have felt more stable.
And that makes me think we, the people, will figure this all out together.
2 Comments
Awesomeness ?
1/22/2017 08:03:37 am
Reply
Kyleleen
1/22/2017 08:31:34 am
So glad to have found you again yesterday and to have found your lovely blog! Very awesome!!
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorsMagdalen Dale and Kaite Sweval grew up a layer apart, overlapping and paralleling. Belonging to the shores of Lake Superior and yet not quite belonging. Laughing and dreaming on the bench outside the ferry booth as Mag passed the time and Kaite chose her time. Left to explore as soon as they could. And then as adults returned home, perhaps to their surprise. But glad to have each other... ‘cause we know there is strength in the differences between us and comfort where we overlap. Archives
All
|