Women can pull off scolding, disappointed, fierceness like no man can.
It’s effectiveness is drawn from our nature to also tend to the other’s feelings that lie beneath–vigilance for the gentle soul that lurks behind the fist. A good friend sent me an excellent article in The Guardian, about the first protest march of women in modern history. Did you know that more than 7,000 women stormed Versailles demanding food in 1789? It was the precursor to the French Revolution.
At yesterday’s Women’s March I thought we would be protesting for equal rights, equal pay, equal power, equal choice. The aim of my blog is to keep it centered around fashion, and connecting with an approachable community of smart women. Especially now, I want Plumage 59 to be a place that gives us a break, a refuge from the more serious issues we face. For several reasons I wanted to cover the march, but how, while remaining true to my mission? It seemed like the right thing to do to keep to the heart of what blogging is all about–keeping it genuine. Also, I was looking at the march as an exemplar of our power, coming together supporting each other–one voice. And, I considered the cultural relevance and history that would be marked, in the coming together of women all over the world. It would supersede politics, jobs, healthcare—it was about womankind.
So, I went to the March in New York City with my camera, and an open mind about the angle I would take in writing this post. Awhile back a close friend and I had a good laugh when she suggested that I take photos of Protest Style, a tongue-in-cheek view at that look. Maybe that would be my story.
What I did not expect was for the lady’s circle to be expanded, with overwhelming support from men, and families marching together. The march became about humankind, sticking together for the underserved, the undervalued. The way neighbors watch out for one another in this city of neighborhoods, the message was solidarity. Joy was all around as a quirky band marched beside us, and countless silhouettes of pink pussy hats bobbed on top of the crowd ahead. There was the greatest sense of togetherness. What began as women nurturing goodness, with a healthy dose of anger, powered into a diverse community of “we’ve got you!” That was my story–fist and soul, with a dash of style.
All Photos: Dawn Bell Solich