Globally over two million women and supporters marched to draw attention to the threats and limitations on women’s rights. A good two million of them came from the USA. Was it also a protest against the new restrictive, authoritarian administration? You’re darn tootin’ it was.
Washington numbers are estimated at twice the numbers for the inauguration, or 500,000, similar in size to the Los Angeles march. San Francisco numbers were around 125,000 with Oakland marching with 80,000. Sacramento estimated 25,000. Fifty cities, in all, had 100 or more protest marchers. New York City numbers reached 400,000. There were also large marches in London, Sydney, Vienna and New Zealand.
I went to Sacramento with the women in my life. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. In fact, I went to it for the world. I’ve long thought that women should be running the planet. They’re best suited and underestimated.
I rode passenger in a van full of happy and angry women. All on the ride up we were sharing politically charged remarks that generally began with, “And another thing!” We kept close to our phones for news, sharing updates from Washington, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and around the world. The tone in the van was, “It’s time. It’s time to unite and raise our voices.”
We stopped to pre-group with a lot of people we knew we’d lose track of during the march. We gathered at a woman’s house and had coffee, juice, pastries, quiche, fruit, yoghurt, granola and raisins. People hung out for an hour. We shared our signs, told stories, traded facts, and ate well. On the way out the front door to begin the march, just a short drive away, the hostess gave everyone a departing bag of trail mix, a bottle of water, and a plastic parka.
I can’t help imagining that if this were a guy march for guy rights, when we reached the host’s house, we’d have been met with cold beer and pretzels, maybe chips, some wings; chili, the signs would have been mostly risqué and full of double entendre. On the way out, everyone would get a shot of Fireball.
The Sacramento Women’s March attendees were having fun, but they were message driven. They came with purpose. Signs spilled from the heart. Many children were in the crowd carrying their own signs. “Still I rise.” We cheered, chanted, and started walking from South Side Park a half-mile to the Capital Mall.
It didn’t take long. WE caught the stage crew off guard. They thought the march would last longer. They proceeded with their sound checks and speaker line-ups while the crowd hung out. We huddled up on the sidewalk in front of the capital walkway. Gino and I leaned on a tall palm tree and declared ourselves Home Base. The women could wander off wherever they liked. Go read signs. They’d find us back at the Big W.
When the speaking began, we heard from many impassioned city and county officials, leaders of local nonprofits. One of the loudest refrains was also the loudest from the Washington March: “Women, get political, run for office, and increase your numbers among the loudest voices. Join the ranks of those who make and shape the rules.”
We want a real gender face-off? Let’s try this as a four-year experiment. Put only men in charge of all corporations doing business with the United States. Put all women in all levels of government from the White House, congress, the courts, states, and cities, right down to the local school boards.
Man say he want to do something with his company, open a hazardous-waste factory on a floating island in international waters, ship in orphans and indigents, he’s first gotta go through Big Mama to get permission. Big Mama’s gonna take one look at his nice mess and put it back in his face. “You go back to the company drawing board and start over. Come back to the government when you have a plan that works for everybody, and we’ll talk.”
Another man say, “But, Baby, it taste just like chicken, at only one fifth the cost.”
Big Mama’s gonna say, “If you think I’m gonna put my seal of approval on this aerated foam, you got another thing coming. My reputation is on the line.”
Man say, “We can save enough to buy you a long string of pearls.”
That’s where the earth stops spinning on its axis. Time stops. We all freeze as we await Big Mama’s response. If Big Mama can resist the pearls, and not cast them before him, there is hope for us all.
If I’m to be cared for, especially when I’m sick, tired, broken, down and out, or old as a stump too dry for firewood, I want to be cared for by women.
Who best to care for hearth and home? We call our only home Mother Earth. Is it to take advantage of her, or is it a show of respect? If it is respect, then let the Age of the Feminine Rule begin. Let women care for the mother. Let women care for men. Let us all care for them.
I will walk the walk and chant the chants to bring that about.
Steve Gibbs is a retired Benicia High School teacher who has written a column for The Herald since 1985.

Sharing is caring!