Marching Rhythms

 

The priests stood off to the side of the marchers making signs of absolution toward us.  They could have been in their own little gardens with a fountain behind them.    Pure thoughts of holy blessings to keep them safe from the crazy women.  Signs in the march reading, 'Keep your rosaries off my ovaries'.  My friend faced the priests with a scowl.  "Clean up your own house, clean up your own house!" 

 

The priest smiled at her and said something.  It wasn't going to end.  I moved away to give them privacy.  With her rage at her upbringing and her pain due to catholic school abuses, sitting at a typewriter, 100 times, 'I will not ask questions, I will not ask questions, I will not ask questions, etc.' 

 

The students are on the side of the march chanting into the crowd, building energy.  I look in their faces.  They believe, they chant, "Show me what democracy looks like".  The crowd yells back, "This is what democracy looks like".  So loud.  So energized.  I can hardly say the words because I am so moved by the youth and the energy.  These beautiful young men and women, some with their wierd nose rings and colored hair, some barely dressed.  Yet, there they are, the feminists of today.  They are the future.  They are my religion.  They have the fire.

 

The families marching with babies in backpacks and strollers.  Wanted children.  Planned children.  Families with four generations of women marching together. 

 

People of color running the show.  Running the show.  Joining the voices.  Over one million women.