Why I march.
I march for you.
I march so that one day I can look you in the eyes and say, I stood up against oligarchy and tyranny.
I march to shed the denial and paralysis I have felt since election day.
I march so that when I complain about the policies enacted, the criminals appointed, I can say, I stood up for your future, I didn’t just complain.
I march so that you know I didn’t sit on the sofa and tweet and sign petitions. I laced up my shoes, I walked out the door and I shouted at the top of my lungs to force them to listen. And when I was done, I helped organize.
I march as a starting point, not as an end.
I march to hear what my sisters and brothers are saying so that I understand—or at least begin to—their fears.
I march to listen.
I march so that we can unite as one against a greater enemy.
I march for you.
I march because for the third year in a row our planet has reached new record high temperatures.
I march because a woman’s reproductive rights are threatened.
I march because this nation’s president has made it a sport to sexually violate women, and to reduce their value to reflect only their appearance.
Hands off my pussy, Trump.
I march in the name of civility.
I march because of the hostility toward immigrants, Muslims, Blacks, Hispanics, Jews and the LGBTQ community.
I march because of a disparity in wealth that has left millions grasping at the ashes of dying industries and false hope.
I march for the sustainable jobs we can create.
I march because I can— so I offer my strength and my support.
I march for you.
I march to remember and to honor those who came before me, and those who inspire me today.
I march for you who are far braver than I am, could ever be. I march in thanks.
I march for those who can’t or won’t march, because you, too, deserve better.
I march for you.