Women's March Nola
As I look through yesterday's photos, chill bumps manifest my arms. In Louisiana, white women make 65 cents for every dollar that a man makes. African American women make 48 cents on that dollar, and Latino women make 51. I am a 22 year old white woman. I am a photographer and aspiring filmmaker, an industry heavily dominated by men. And yet, I still carry privilege. I am privileged to have an education, to own a camera, and to have the free time and the assurance of safely to protest.
Yesterday I looked around and saw a lot of people united for multifarious causes, fueled by the same hunger for equality. These protests took place all over the world. In DC, in Portland, in Paris, Australia, Mexico, Amsterdam, each geographic location bringing their own flavor. New Orleans' bringing street dancings and brass bands, glitter and beer cans. This was the biggest protest I'd ever seen take place in Our City. Sweaty bodies parading and chanting, singing, radiating hope. We were home.
The most important thing I took away yesterday was this: We must continue. Taking the two mile walk back to my car, some older ladies addressed us from their porch on Dauphine. They cheered us on. My friend replied, "We did it!" One of the ladies adopted a serious gaze. "Not yet. We must keep doing this."
She was right. Let the women's march be a jumpstart to our involvement in politics. Let us pay attention and know our rights. Show up and vote, realize our power. And let us listen to and stand up for one another.
