Vancouver Women’s March

I marched with over 15,000 other Vancouverites yesterday.

I couldn’t hear any of the speakers before the March, so didn’t bother going back to the Jack Poole Plaza afterwards.

I added my empty coffee cup to an overflowing garbage bin of empty coffee cups.

I mostly marched in silence. Introverted activism?

I kept my sign, instead of affixing it to a fence in front of the Trump tower. I’ll use it again next month.

Besides the group I was with, I didn’t run into anyone I knew.

I am a woman. I am Indigenous. I am black. I am an LGBTQ ally.

I’m grateful to have been a part of a group that showed up. Afterwards, I learned on Facebook that there are groups that felt deliberately excluded from the event. I don’t know anything about those who organized, or anything about putting together something of this magnitude in such a short time better, but I do know that from everything I’ve ever done, I’ve learned something to make it better next time.

Women are smart. Women make mistakes. Women reflect and learn.

Rest on that.

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