January 23, 2017

When You're Called to Action

Last week, I had plans to fly to Palm Springs, CA with The Pilot. He was going to a conference and I wanted to tag along to soak up some California sunshine in the dead of DC's winter.

The Pilot had to be there before I could get out and on Wednesday, I left my house and headed to the airport. I hadn't even been in my uber for 5 minutes when I asked the driver to turn around and take my back home. I had checked my connecting flight and what had previously shown 3 available seats with 2 people on standby now showed a completely full flight with 3 revenue passengers on standby and knew I wasn't going to make it out that night. Because of the time difference, and the fact that at this point, I would only be on the West Coast for two days, I decided against going.

I really didn't want to be in town for the Inauguration so I called my mom and decided to crash her and my aunt's Friday night plans to see "The Phantom of the Opera."

We had dinner near the theater, at an Italian restaurant called Becco that didn't disappoint and then wandered through Time Square for a bit before making our way to the theater. I had seen Phantom once before, about 10 years ago, and the show was just as wonderful as I remembered it.

My mom and I got back to her house around 1 am and I spent the next hour trying to figure out my plans for the next morning.

Over the course of the day, I had learned that within hours of the Inauguration, the White House website was no longer available in Spanish. Something about this set me off. It was this, combined with all of the tweets, the derogatory comments about women, disabled people, and every other minority, the conflicts of interest, the Nazi salutes, the increase in hate crimes, the inability to call my non-existent Senator or Member of Congress, the innumerable facts of what this election has meant just set me off. I hadn't planned to be at the Women's March on Washington but all of a sudden, I couldn't miss it. So, on minimal sleep, and without a flight to get on, I boarded an early train full of women in pink hats back home to DC. I got home, dropped my stuff on, and made my way to Capitol Hill. I joined the million other women on the Hill, and my husband later joined me, and I took part in this momentous occasion to show that our voices, whatever they are saying, will not be silenced.

I still feel completely useless as a DC resident with no representation to call to represent me, but Saturday, I felt like I did something and I will continue to find ways to do what I can to make sure that I, as a first generation, Latin American woman, am not silenced.

If you marched this weekend, tell me where you were and what that experience was like. 
It makes me hopeful that so many women across the globe marched!

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