Women of all ages brought their daughters to Saturday’s March for Women and Social Justice in downtown Atlanta to educate and inspire them.
The day had arrived to go back to school
Freezing winds were nippy and cruel
All of a sudden as if a switch had flipped on
The birds in the forest were no longer gone
I attended the Atlanta March for Social Justice & Women Saturday with my mother and a few people who go to my mosque. President Trump, this is what democracy looks like.
Today I had the pleasure of attending one of the most uplifting events I’ve ever been to in my life. This was the Atlanta March for Social Justice & Women.
I like to compare Obama’s presidency with how my mom takes care of me and my siblings. Theoretically, the rest of the nation would be my siblings. Obama nurtured and looked after America, just as my mom nurtures and looks after me.
I curated a Spotify playlist of 30 songs, ranging from “Alone Again” by Gilbert O’Sullivan, to “Tha Crossroads” by Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, all to celebrate one of the coolest presidents ever.
The construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline struck a fiery chord in the hearts of Native Americans across the country.
It all felt so real, yelling with others in the cold, November air, our voices surrounded in small clouds of heat and breath. To voice opinions and emotions I had pent up inside for so long was the best feeling in the world, and I could tell I was not the only one having such an experience.
I walked out of the Hyatt Regency where the GA Democrats held their election night party with my head in my hands and tears welling in my eyes. I was defeated. I called an Uber to bring me home, and removed each of the buttons and pins and stickers from my jacket, just in case my driver was for the other candidate.
Today felt filled with lament and mourning — mourning the loss of all the social progress that has been made for anyone who isn’t a white, heterosexual male in the top 1 percent of the economy.