Before the
21st of January when I read the word “march” the first thing that came up to my
mind was: Chaos. My idea of a rally was angry people making noise in the street; fighting for
something just for the sake’s of creating chaos and disturbing the peaceful
people walking fast trying to avoid them. See, I usually am one of those people:
the ones who escape from their problems acting like they don’t care and even if
they do, they think they could not do anything to change the situation anyways.
After the
21st of January when I read the word march the first thing that comes up my
mind is: Hope. What did it change? It changed that last
Sunday I’ve got that crazy idea of leaving my new green warm duvet, walking out
from my house during one of those few days where the snow decided to say “hi,
did you miss me?” to the Londoners, and standing with other seven thousand people
in Richmond Terrance.
I guess if
someone had to describe my face with one word, it would have been: confusion. What am I supposed to do now? my eyes were
asking in total terror. Should I start
speaking to that blonde woman next to me? my lips were shaking. Why didn’t I bring a nice feminist sign? my hands were looking for comfort
from the pockets of my black jacket.
Then Shola Mos Shogbamimu came up on that small stage and she made my tragic
stream of consciousness disappear as fast as a sunny day in London. She was
everything that I always inspired to be: her spontaneous laugh and her warm voice were easily capturing everyone's attention.
Speeches after speeches, I felt this new and exciting sensation in my body: it
was hope. Hope that the world could actually be a better place if we stand
together, side by side, fighting for our beliefs. Hope that we could finally
achieve equality between any gender, sexuality, religion and nationality. Hope
that we could end all the suffer and injustices of the world.
And what
comes after hope is one of the most powerful world of our dictionary: courage. As
Salena Godden stated in her poem:
Courage is a muscle we gotta keep tight because
Courage is a muscle we gotta keep tight because
Courage is the muscle we use when we fight
Courage is a muscle we flex when we must
Courage is the muscle, for truth and for trust *
Courage was
in my veins after hearing her words; it was red as blood but stronger. Stronger as my hope for the future.
Here 5
small things we could all do to keep the movement alive:
1. Share: At the end of the rally Shola
made us swear (yes, she made us put the hand on the heart) of sharing, retweetting and posting on every social media the
letter they wrote to Theresa May regarding her meeting with Donald Trump. Where
we would like to invite our prime minister to stand with us and say TIME’S UP.
2. Donate: On Sunday they were some
lovely women who were collecting pads to donate them to the women who are not
able to have a “bloody good period”. If you have missed this chance but you are
interested in their amazing work, follow them on social media (@bloodygoodperiod
) and see how you could make your donation.
3. Speak: How many times as women we
feel like people were looking down at us? How many time people misjudge us for
how we looked or dressed? How many times people thought we couldn’t do
something just for our gender? Everytime you find yourself in a discriming
situation remember the time’s up on staying quiet. Take a long big breath and
SPEAK UP.
4 . Stay Informed: Read, read and then read! Stay informed on politics and news of your country but also of any other part of the world.
5. Participate: 2018 has just began and there will be plenty of occasions to make this year going down in history. You might have missed the Women’s March last Sunday but you can be standing next to me in the next one.
5. Participate: 2018 has just began and there will be plenty of occasions to make this year going down in history. You might have missed the Women’s March last Sunday but you can be standing next to me in the next one.
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