History is a subject I always enjoy. There are a lot of a great stories there, but also opportunities to reflect on how things have changed. Whether this change is about you or society at large, the fact we can trace the evolution of how things progress, and document that, really fascinates me.
History, though, can be subjective based on who exactly is writing it. History is written by the winners. I’m thankful for all the ways we can capture history due to technological advancements. Photographs, video, the Internet. These are all great tools in capturing our world and documenting our presence and contribution for future generations.
So, it Is crazy to me with such great tools to record our lives, there are people who still challenge the truth while it is staring directly at them in face. There is even a new buzzword to describe one’s blatant refusal to acknowledge reality: alternative facts. Referring to something as “alternative facts” is an intellectually inept way to dismiss a truth if it doesn’t fit within a specific narrative you are writing. Manipulating audiences with the introduction of alternative facts becomes a way to write history. In our current political climate, it appears as though the current presidential administration isn’t interested in doing what is best for everyone in the country. It is about winning. And in order to win, you have to brand and market your ideas in a way that gets more people on your side. Because, in the end, it isn’t about what actually happened. It is about who finished first and on top and that’s when “truth” becomes reality.
We are always going through history and we are always experiencing history changing. By and large, we don’t recognize we went through something very significant until years later because, sometimes, the historical impact of something takes years, or even generations, to make sense and provide context. However, there are singular moments that define us and the world. Moments where we know instantly that we will never be the same again. And it is up to us to decide how those moments define us for better or worse.
I didn’t watch Trump’s inauguration speech or dinner. I ignored all footage, reports, and social media posts that directly involved him. However, I watched the footage of the protest in D.C. Thousands of people marched and protested Trump’s presidency. However, what took the spotlight off the large crowds were the few extremists who vandalized and behaved violently. All of the news reports focused on the window smashing and the fires being lit. Between the demagogue swearing in and the violent civil unrest in the streets, it was looking like a dark day.
The footage had me worried because I was scheduled to march the next day in Chicago as part of a nationwide Women’s March. The Chicago Tribune anticipated that 50,000 people who show up in Grant Park to march a few blocks to Daley Plaza. While I was impressed with that number, it seemed lame to have them march such a short distance. However, it would be manageable and that would be a good thing considering the unease I felt after watching the violence in D.C.
Throughout the morning, in Grant Park, there were speakers and performers scheduled prior to the march. I was with my friend Carolyn and we were running late, so we missed all that. As we left the trains, I was reading a report on WGN that the total number of people was 150,000 and that march would be officially cancelled. I was so stunned to hear that the number of people attending was three times more than estimate from the day prior. We left the station and were immediately met with swarms of men and women waving signs and sporting fashionably cute hats with kitty ears; their pussyhats.
The march has just begun when we arrived. Immediately, I was overwhelmed with a joyous spirit. The energy and electricity in the air was nearly tangible. We headed west down Van Buren chanting and looking at all the creative, colorful, and powerful signs. Signs that could be funny, signs that were poignant, and signs sharing personal stories. So many beautiful signs.
Carolyn and I ate cookies with frosting decorated like a shit in Trump’s image and cookies with Obama’s famous logo. We turned north on Wabash and marched under the L train. The large crowd, like a snake, meandered through the Loop on Jackson, La Salle, Madison, and finally to the famous Michigan Avenue where we marched under the shadow of the infamous Trump Tower along the Chicago river. However, we didn’t stop there. The crowd had already veered off the approved path for an already officially canceled march, so it wouldn’t hurt to take it as far as we could go. So, we marched up State before Carolyn and I broke away at State & Chicago for lunch.
The day couldn’t have been better. The sun was shining and was unusually warm for a January day. The protests were larger than expected. Most importantly, it was a peaceful protest. Conflicting reports were running until the final estimate recorded that over 250,000 people protested in Chicago. And not only that, there was a not a single arrest. So many women marched in this country that it became the biggest protest in U.S. history. And not only that, but women marched and protested on every single continent. Everything about that event was the exact opposite over the depressing train wreck in D.C. the day before where people rioted, were arrested, and the rain put a damper on spirits as our country watched a vile man take the oath of office for the presidency.
The day before, I had finished a book entitled Girls to the Front: The True Story of the Riot Grrrl Revolution by Sara Marcus. It was the next book to read for a music book club and I didn’t know much about riot grrrl. However, how fitting it would be to finish it the day before the Women’s March.
The title of this book comes from a mantra championed by the Riot Grrrl movement, an underground feminist punk group, that challenges the patriarchy within music and culture while creating a safe space for women and girls to participate while also giving them a venue to express themselves. The Riot Grrrl movement originated in 1991 in Olympia, Washington before generating a second hub in Washington, D.C. In these groups, young girls and women formed bands, created zines, and held group discussions that encouraged sisterhood and positive reinforcement of self. Out of the movement, bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile were formed as a musically engaging way to address issues that plagued women including rape, domestic abuse, and sexuality. These punk rock shows and zines provided an outlet and a voice for women and all the inherent subcultures within to challenge not only the “boyocracy,” but the outdated ideals of 70s feminists in favor of a more radical and progressive style of feminism, third-wave feminism, a concept that was more focused on the individual and inclusivity.
Bikini Kill gets credit for inventing the riot grrrl movement, but this is something they refuse to accept. Regardless, they made powerful music with a powerful message. Released in 1993, “Rebel Girl” is Bikini Kill’s most memorable and serves as the unofficial anthem of the riot grrrl movement. In this hardwired punk classic, Kathleen Hanna sings about a girl in the neighborhood who is so confident that she seems to own the entire area. Hanna is enamored by this girl and desires to be her best friend. In the spirit of riot grrrl, Hanna wants sisterhood and to crush all the critics of this queen of the neighborhood. The song has rebellious spirit with a message of tolerance and elevating women.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that song during the march. And given that I just finished that book the day prior, it added more significance to the day’s events. I went there to support all of the important women in my life and to express solidarity with women all over the world. It is a moment I’ll always cherish and I feel honored to have march alongside such brave and brilliant women. In an age where our written history is at stake, I am happy with the choice I made of where to stand. Revolution girl style now!