It is Saturday, January 21, 2017, and I am in Washington DC at the Women’s March. My husband and I had purchased airplane tickets to attend the inauguration of Hillary Clinton and had disconsolately decided to participate in the protest in its place. To say I was heartbroken at Clinton’s defeat is an understatement.
If you are male, it is impossible for you to fathom the depths of my despair. The morning of the election, I had run past a pile of shattered glass. I was certain it was a portend that the glass ceiling was about to be broken and that a woman would become the most powerful figure in the world. A female president would be the most demonstrative feminist symbol of authority in national history. But it was not to be. My sorrow knew no bounds.
On the morning of the march, Don and I gathered early with other family members to catch a ride on the Metro. It quickly became clear that masses of people, many of them women in pink hats, were going to the capitol building and the National Mall.
The demonstration exceeded my imagination – powerful in its message, moving in its connection, and riveting in its purpose. The diversity of the participants was broad, and the causes they espoused sweeping. People rallied in support of women’s rights, gender, racial, and LGBTQ equality, immigration and healthcare reform, and environmental protection. But the common thread woven throughout was the aversion for, and distrust of, newly inaugurated President Trump.
We walked for hours, fortified by packed lunches, bottled water, and common purpose. The crowd in Washington DC alone was estimated at 500,000; worldwide numbers approached seven million. The mood was impassioned but peaceful. It was reported that of the two million protestors in the cities of Washington DC, Chicago, LA, New York, and Seattle, not a single arrest was necessary. March organizers actively promoted the non-violent ideology of the Civil Rights movement on its website. I did not witness agitated activity, aggressive language, or the vestiges of vandalism. The police were present, but other than answering questions about the availability of public restrooms, their presence was unnecessary.
I cannot reconcile the unifying and peaceful protest in 2017 with the activities of the past week. On Wednesday demonstrators participated in a rally promoted and attended by President Trump and then marched to the Capitol. The rioters, predominantly male and Caucasian, scaled the walls of the Capitol, pushed open doors, and broke windows to enter the rotunda. Once inside, they ransacked Congressional offices, incited altercations, and stole or destroyed personal property.
How is it that millions can stride in lawful and inspiring solidarity while mere thousands cannot? I have only one explanation: this week’s riots were fueled less by passion and unity than by rage and divisiveness. But what are the origins of such vehemence? The answer lies in the rioters’ belief that something they were entitled to was unfairly taken from them. This sentiment was broadcast in one of my favorite signs displayed at the 2017 Women’s March:
When You are Accustomed to Privilege, Equality Feels Like Oppression.
I have news for the people that committed crimes at the Capitol this week: the election was not rigged; the candidate you supported lost fair and square. It is time for you to acknowledge your disappointment, pay for your crimes, and move on.