The Women’s March in Philadelphia: A Narrative

The Womens March in Philadelphia: A Narrative

Stepping out of the house into the foggy morning of the 21st, my mother and I packed our supplies into the car and headed off to the Hammonton train station.

With my camera bag strapped to my body, and the National Lawyers Guild phone number scrawled on our arms, we took our seats, ready for the trek to the Women’s March of Philadelphia.

Train-goers buzzed with energy, and the excitement in the air was palpable. It was the loudest train ride I’ve ever been on, but it swelled my heart with joy and optimism. Men, women, and children were sprawled throughout the train car, some with pink hats, others with bright signs.

My mom and I chatted excitedly, going over the map until it was ingrained into our memories. While eating our breakfast sandwiches and slowing down to the Atco station, we heard a few women ahead of us talking about their detailed plans on how to get to the heart of the march.

This was the first time that my mom and I have ever done something like this, and with a limited memory of the Philadelphia streets, I approached the women and asked if we could tag along.

There were two families, one with a mother and daughter,  and the other with three-generations of women. They accepted with open arms, and filled us in on the plan once we got off the train.

Once we got off at 30th Street Station, we found our track and waited for the next train to Suburban Station. The station was bustling, and if you didn’t walk fast, you’d get swept up in the crowd rushing to the march.

During our journey to the walk, other marchers shared their signs and march gear with us; my favorite was the “Nasty Woman” sash that the grandmother with us wore.

When we exited, it seemed like we had already made it to the heart of the march. We were faced with a huge crowd, walking slower than 1 mph majority of the time. However, when the crowd occasionally dispersed, I took the chance to snap a few photos, getting a great view of all of the colorful signs marching down Martin Luther King Jr Boulevard.

Smiles were on the faces of everyone around us, from young children to giddy dogs. Chants would erupt every few minutes, and I could feel my heart swell as they grew louder each time. “Show me what democracy looks like; this is what democracy looks like” was a big favorite.

Time flew by, though I hardly kept track, when we could see the Philadelphia Art Museum within our path. I hopped around the crowd, snapping as many pictures that I could, while trying to keep up with my pack.

The street was filled to the brim, so much so that we had no idea that there was a projector all the way down the road, and a stage even further behind it. When we could finally see what was going on, we had the opportunity to hear from a variety of speakers and performers, giving their words of encouragement and praise to those who came out today, and who were willing to fight for what they believed in.

We had the opportunity to move ahead and get a great view of the stage, and things really started to get good at this point. One by one, each speaker came up to the podium, some asking us to join hands together, others pulling everyone into song. While we were singing, one women came by, passing out delicious peppermint bark. Thinking of it now, I wish I got that recipe!

As we listened, I swelled with hope once again, and felt an overwhelming sense of empowerment as well. The experience in itself, witnessing everyone joining together, was a once in a lifetime deal.

Our group had managed to stay together for the majority of the day, until things started to wind down. My mom and I stuck around with the other mother and daughter until it was time for us to get to our train.

As we traveled up to the art museum, there were musicians all around, strumming on guitars or playing the bongos. People were strung about the steps of the museum, and we waited for our friend, Annie, to run up the Rocky Steps.

I managed to convince my mom to go to the museum, even though we’d end up getting home pretty late. Unfortunately, however, our newfound friends couldn’t join us, so we bid our goodbyes and exchanged contact information.

After our adventure through the museum and two-mile trek back to the train station, my mom and I ended the day with smiles on our faces and happiness in our hearts.

Organizers in Philadelphia say it’s a demonstration “to send a bold, nationwide message to the new presidential administration on its first day in office that women’s rights are human rights, and they cannot, and should not, be ignored.”

The march declared that message loud and clear.