January 20 -22, 2017: Sarasota, FL & Washington, D.C.

Excitement filled my veins as this Shabbat approached. However, that was not the story prior to the life changing phone call from my girlfriend, Lori Dorman, on Thursday morning. I was actually driving south on I-75 and listening to NPR when Lori called. My mood was melancholy with the thought of the upcoming inauguration. I finally understood what George Bush, Jr. often stated that we [the people] would miss him…he was right. While I did not vote for Bush either time, his inauguration never bothered me; I never felt threatened by his presidency the same way that I feel personally threatened by this president’s behavior.

Lori asked me what I was doing this weekend. I replied, “You know, taking care of my mom and going to the Women’s March downtown.” She enthusiastically asked, “Do you want to go to Washington and march there?” “Um…YES,” I cried out. And then within moments, she had booked us two tickets on American Airlines to Reagan International Airport for Saturday morning at 7:10 a.m. My mood lifted fromhelpless to hopeful. If that wasn’t enough, my girlfriend, Tara Shimberg and her husband, Steve, offered us their couches for the night! We were set. And if that wasn’t enough, my daughter, Erin and niece-cousin, Justine Berger, were marching in NYC!

Friday became busy with the hustle and bustle of the prep for the quick but historical journey. Shabbat dinner convened at the Schneider’s – Tali, Sam, Mia, Rochelle, Hannah, Eton and Jonah. Ourson, Jake, worked late.  Both Steve and I were preoccupied with our moms’ health, so we arrived later than expected with the famous Publix challah. The candles were lit already, and we chimed in to complete the ritual blessings to begin Shabbat and experience Sam and Tali’s inspirational meal: chicken, fish, and beef, fresh salad from our garden, couscous, rice, white and red wines, baked brussel sprouts, vegan au gratin potatoes, steamed broccoli and moist Shabbat cake.

The table was filled with much chatter and the excitement of the marches both in Sarasota and Washington. Sam tried to convince us that the incoming president will be fine. None of us bought that. While we want the president to succeed, there is just no evidence of this on day three of it yet. Nonetheless, it is good to have healthy conversation especially while drinking Shabbat wine. After two glasses, I was definitely radiant and pumped to meet up with Lori who had attended services at Temple Emanu-El. Steve dropped me off and we rode to her home to begin our prep for Washington, D.C. We had clear backpacks required for protest marches, boarding passes, and travel paraphernalia. Four fifteen a.m. came quickly, and we were on the road to Tampa. When we arrived at our gate, we were greeted by other women headed up as well. They had pink knitted hats, shirts, and signs. It was remarkable. We each wrote our names and contact phone numbers on our arms or legs as ID markers, and we had no idea what we were in for.

As the flight departed, we passengers cheered, introduced each other and high-fived. Our spirits were lifted literally and figuratively. I made signs in flight, tried clearing my phone for pictures, and felt invigorated. Tara and Steve met us at the arrival terminal. We put our luggage in their car, and then we three ladies headed to the metro station from the airport. This was the point of no return. The metro was sardined. There was a young teenage boy at the door of the train and all women descended around him. I cannot imagine his thoughts. The train didn’t move for about 45 minutes as the rail lines were busy with incoming and outgoing traffic. Suddenly, as sweat dripped down our spines, a wave of singing traveled throughout the car – Bill Withers “Just call on me brother when you need a hand…we all need someone to lean on.” It was spectacular. Tears streamed down our faces and we all just sang in unison. The doors finally shut and we were on our way to the mall in Washington, D.C.

We arrived to our destination and were quickly scooped up into the moment. It was a swarm of creative signs, pink pussy hats, and smiles of unity and womanhood. Lori, Tara, and I meandered through a sea of humanity.As Lori recanted, “All of these women could be together without violence, screaming or hitting. Everyone cared about each other and made sure each person was okay.”

It is also important to also note that the area had not been cleaned from the inauguration from the day before. Trashcans were overflowing, many of the latrines had locks on them from being out of order, and despite the fences and barricades we all weaved in, out, around, on top of, and through the mall patiently and united.

 

 

Simultaneously, Erin was texting me about their moments up in NYC, and we were experiencing an exhilarating journey as mother and daughter in our own ways. She was marching with Justine, my niece-cousin. I felt proud.

 

Lori, Tara and I marched, watched, interacted, and k’veled together. Because of Lori’s last minute efforts, we experienced his
tory together like our foremothers at the Seneca Women’s Convention decades before. Two hundred thousand people were expected, but 700,000 people + descended on the mall according to the National Park Service men whom we spoke with along the route. We expected a more organized march, but the collaborators clearly did not expect these crowds,so we meandered with the crowds and felt grateful. We had no idea that 67 other countries and countless cities around the country were also participating. Even our own Sarasota packed the MarinaJack area with 10,000 supporters. Two thousand were originally expected. As news reports came in via social media and reliable news sources, we were stunned. Friends from Hawaii, Australia, Israel, and, even the scientists from Antarctica participated in their own way. All seven continents were represented.

Lori and I had originally registered with the National Council of Jewish Women and Planned Parenthood, but as the crowds were so large we never caught up with them. We did find women for the cause, however and we were pleased to get the evidence that they were in attendance.

 

After the march, we girls headed to a casual eatery, Soapstone for cold beer on tap and fresh food. We struck up conversations with others as it was obvious who had also just finished the march. Each person we bumped into had smiles on the face. It was like watching the Mary Tyler Moore theme song come alive:  “Who can turn the world on with her smile, who can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile.” This picture was taken on Sunday morning as we enjoyed pastries at Bread Furst.

Once we settled in at Tara and Steve Shimberg’s home for the night, we started catching up on comments from the day. Lori shared this dramatic one with me by the Spurs’ coach, Gregg Popovich.

As we reviewed our pictures, this one protest sign perplexed me. The guy with the mask represents Guy Fawkes. As I did not understand the significance of the man in the mask,  I asked one of my students, John Redding. Here’s what he explained, “The mask represents the deceased Guy Fawkes, who was convicted of high treason in England in 1605 and was hanged, drawn, and quartered for his crimes against the English Parliament in an attempt to reinstate the Catholic Church. John continued, “I think it started with the movie called “V for Vendetta”  synonymous with the character and rebellion against greater evils. But for this march, I am pretty sure the V represents vagina because of the context of the protest. The mask is now a symbol for the group Anonymous. 

When I sighted this sign, I really paused and contemplated why my uterus is even up for discussion politically and the issue of gun control or clarity is pushed aside. I find it so disturbing as a national conversation. Actually, I think the conversation is completely wrong. It should not be pro-life vs. pro-choice as while I have not conducted a scientific survey, I am pretty sure that if you ask most women, they are not in favor of abortions – just in favor of the right to decide.

I had a roommate once who used abortions as birth control – not okay. Taking our right away to choose is what is at issue. No women wants to have to make this decision, but it is important that it just exists – that is what Roe v Wade protects. I am still not sure why white men want to control this or even feel the need to discuss it. It remains odd to me. While I did not see this video at the march #ICANTKEEPQUIET it captures this moment.

 

This picture sums up the march for me. Elie Wiesel would be quite proud of these world wide gatherings against the backdrop of the current political situation. We must also remember Madison Square Garden 1939 as a protest rally against the American Nazi Party that would foreshadow times to come.

“All of these women could be together and there was no violence, screaming or hitting. Everyone cared about each other and made sure each person was okay.” – Lori Dorman