Women’s March

Today I had the honor of joining the 2018 Women’s March in Seattle with my oldest daughter.

Truth to be told, I wasn’t that excited about going. While a supporter, I’m not much of a marcher. I’ve actually never done another march – in support of….anything. Predominantly because marches are connected with some of my least favorite things: traffic, geographical dependencies (i.e. finding the marchers), and large crowds of people squished together (being short and not being able to see above heads is the problem here, more so than claustrophobia).

In any case, when your 15 year-old daughter shows interest in doing anything with you, you jump at it. And I’ve harbored guilt that I didn’t take her to last year’s Women’s March. It was right after Trump’s election and there was a cloud of uncertainty and fear. Seattle marches for other causes have a history of violence, so my concern for our safety – and general laziness (see above) – kept us from going. And she really wished she had the opportunity.

It also seemed like a notable year to attend. I believe this year will be a watershed year in history for the advancement of women. At least I really hope so. Between the #metoo movement exposing so much bad behavior in the workplace, groups of people having the courage to speak up against deplorable actions – like the brave gymnasts banding together against their abuser, to young women being encouraged to join STEM and other career paths like never before – I hope this is a watershed year. Because it is so needed.

So, this year, I was all in. Ready to march! And my expectations were blown away.

It was so energizing to be surrounded by so many people – not just women – who peacefully came together to rally for women’s rights, and human rights, and many other worthy causes. Every generation was represented, from children in strollers to elderly couples. The spirit, comradery, and general goodwill was infectious and I left renewed with a burst of optimism and positivity. An unexpected gift. And a lifetime memory with my daughter I will cherish forever.

As we marched, I also thought about so much. How my grandmothers were such strong women – hard workers at home and in the workplace, while being the backbone of their families. How my mother went to college and only saw a few career options at the time – teacher or nurse. While noble – and she educated generations of young children as a beloved kindergarten teacher – such limited options just a generation ago. And how much hope I have for my daughter.

I hope she sees limitless opportunities with unlimited room for growth, learning, and advancement.

I hope she sees open doors, with any career path an option and an understanding and belief that with hard work, she can walk through any door.

I hope she pursues not just a job, but a career – one that challenges her, pushes her, ignites her passion, and brings her joy.

I hope she plans on creating her own independence – and while she may be fortunate enough to choose to be a full-time mother, or creative entrepreneur, or dedicated volunteer – she should plan on finding that fulfilling career and supporting herself not just to survive but to thrive in any way she chooses.

I hope she doesn’t feel like she has to choose between having a career and being a good mom. I hope her generation leaves that guilt and pressure behind, and realizes that they deserve to choose their path as equally as men. 

I hope if she decides to have a child, she is not nervous to tell her supervisors at work. I hope she can embrace this choice with joy and excitement, and not fear the impact it may have on her career.

I hope when she tells her supervisors at work, they are supportive and matter-of-fact. I hope they do not say “wow, I thought you were a career person”, as I was told not that long ago really. I hope her dreams are not diminished even one little bit, but celebrated for how much richer her life is about to become.

I hope when she is working her way up the ladder, she not only assumes her seat at the table, but she speaks up, asserts herself, and shares her point of view. I also hope she listens, learns from others, and always shows empathy. But she does not shy away from challenge and she is not intimidated. 

I hope in important meetings of senior executives, she looks around the room and sees diversity – including people like her. I hope she is not surrounded by only men, occasionally exchanging a supportive glance with the other lone female. I hope “inclusion” and “diversity” just are – rather than programs that have to be striven for with miniscule percentage points of progress each year.

I hope she knows she has complete control of her body – today, tomorrow, and always. Her health, her wishes, her boundaries are hers – and hers alone. 

I hope she is surrounded by good people. Who say kind words. And who never demean, belittle, or insult.

I hope she feels supported. Not just tolerated. But supported, to the depths of her soul, to chase the dreams that matter to her. 

I hope she knows that her happiness is everything. And she is powerful. And capable. And has the strength to achieve and overcome.

These are just a few of the things I hope.