Women March

March 1, 2025

Eleanor Roosevelt—who worked so hard and achieved so much all while subject to some of the nastiest attacks ever hurled at a first lady—famously said: “A woman is like a teabag; you’ll never know how strong it is until it’s in hot water.”

And we’re in A LOT of hot water these days, my friends.

I’d like to add this to Eleanor’s quip: you’ll also not fully know women’s strength until you see them march.

Women’s History Month begins with this commemoration: the gutsy March 3rd, 1913 March of Suffragists in Washington, D.C. Organized by the legendary Alice Paul and Lucy Burns, thousands of women marched along Pennsylvania Avenue, the day before the inauguration of Woodrow Wilson. Their “Great Demand” was for Congress to finally vote on the Susan B. Anthony Amendment, first proposed 35 years earlier in 1878: “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.”

Paul and Burns carefully organized the long procession to display women’s competence, patriotism, and dignity. Women marched in groups by state, profession, or in their academic regalia with fellow graduates of their colleges. They were followed by bands and 20 elaborate floats illustrating the beauty and acumen of women. Leading the procession was activist lawyer/speaker Inez Milholland, dressed all in white, riding astride (rather than in demure side saddle) a noble white horse. Inez also wore a golden tiara with the star of hope on top, crowned as “the herald of the future,” an example of the New Woman of the 20th century.

An enormous crowd—estimated to be 250,000—crowded the parade route. As the procession drew nearer to the White House, onlookers began to stream into the streets, blocking the marchers until the women found themselves engulfed in a sea of jeering men who shouted profane insults, spat upon, and even manhandled them. The police stood by and watched or shouted at the women they wouldn’t be in this danger if they’d stayed home where they belonged.

Frightened but determined, these extraordinary women locked arms and faced down their attackers, managing to hold their ground until U.S. Army troops finally arrived—an hour after the trouble began—to clear the street. The women regathered themselves and stubbornly finished their procession, ending with a dramatic tableau about liberty on the steps of the Treasury Building.

Their cleverly orchestrated, politically savvy, and courageous march helped build the momentum for the 19th Amendment to pass Congress 6 years later, in 1919, and then be ratified by the required three-quarters of the states in August 1920.

50 years later, another progressive and defiant writer/activist, Betty Friedan, conceived a similarly ambitious and consequential march of protest. Symbolically held on the anniversary of the 19th Amendment becoming law (August 26th, 1970), 50,000 feminists paraded down NYC’s Fifth Avenue during rush hour—on strike.  

Organized by the National Organization for Women (NOW), all across the nation, women ceased cooking and cleaning to draw attention to the unequal expectation for women to perform domestic labor, while secretaries, stenographers, and receptionists walked out of business offices and shops in protest of workplace discrimination. Sister rallies massed in Detroit, Washington DC, Indianapolis, New Orleans, Los Angeles, Berkley, St. Louis, and Boston.

It was a powerful, undeniable, and very visible interruption of the patriarchal status quo that emboldened and fueled the controversial but growing women’s liberation movement.

Within two years, Congress had passed the Equal Rights Amendment in a stunning majority (354 to 24 in the House; 84 to 8 in an all-male, all white Senate). Roe v Wade legalized abortion. Single women could legally purchase the Pill. And feminists managed to litigate and legislate other critical changes—like ending sex-segregated want ads (women for clerical, men for management) and the requirement of a husband or father’s co-signature on any loan or credit card a woman wanted to open. All that achieved, despite women comprising in 1973 only 4% of the nation’s lawyers and 16 of Congress’ 535 members.

Today: That’s the good news history. The truly inspiring, spine-straightening, never-doubt-what-we-can-do stuff.

Now, here are a few sobering thoughts, which I also share in the hope to steel and motivate us in a new surge of organized marches, metaphorical and literal (please also see my Galentine’s blog post for more about combatting disinformation and culture war-fracturing of women that allowed Phyllis Schlafly and her STOP ERA scare campaign to unravel the ERA). Today, I’m sticking to marches.

Perhaps the most important achievement of that 1970 march was it united women young and old, homemakers and “career girls,” older veterans of civil rights and anti-war protests of the 1960s with younger and sometimes more “radical” women. It also pulled in men—husbands, fathers, boyfriends, or just progressive, fair-minded souls who blanched at the discrimination they saw perpetrated on their female friends, colleagues, and families.

We need to replicate those coalitions again and to regather the sense of outrage and energy and sense of communion seen in that stunning mass protest march against Trump’s first inauguration in 2017.

I was in that D.C. crowd, with my daughter and her friends, hobbling along in a walking cast. I’ll never forget the kindness I was shown when I could no longer go on in that heavy boot and turned around to retreat to a nearby Metro stop. I found myself stupidly trying to swim against a current of thousands. But people gently took my arms and semi-lifted me to pass me back, the throng parting for the middle-aged dummy trying to march in a cast, to give me safe passage toward safety.

I fervently hope we can replicate that palpable sense of responsibility for one another that enveloped and protected me that day as we go forward now.  

According to seasoned activists, we need to focus our protests. To march—or gather outside a government building or demand a town hall or call our Congress member—not just once, but repeatedly. Growing our numbers each time. Constant pressure.

I can’t help hearing the finale song of Suffs, the Musical—a resounding call to action that left everyone in Broadway’s Music Box Theatre in tears during the performance I saw with my family:

Keep marching on
Keep marching on

And remember every mother that you came from
Learned as much from our success as our mistakes
Don't forget you're merely one of many others
On the journey every generation makes
We did not end injustice and neither will you
But still, we made strides, so we know you can too

Final suggestions: Like many of you, I’ve been devouring any information that feels proactive. My go-to reads include newsletters by historian Heather Cox Richardson, former U.S. attorney and host of Sisters-in-Law podcast Joyce Vance, homeland security expert Olivia Troye, historian Ruth Ben-Ghiat, former Hill staffer and author Emily Amick, virtual events/interviews hosted by Red Wine & Blue and the Seneca Project, and “new media” like The Contrarian, The Bulwark, Politico, and The.Ink. Sadly, I no longer bother with The Washington Post, which feels like sacrilege, but I can’t stomach the Trump-censorship being imposed by its kowtowing owner Jeff Bezos. So far, The New York Times seems to be holding ground. And I’m looking to support Associated Press (AP) in solidarity with its sticking to facts like the name of the Gulf of Mexico.

So, I’ll end with sharing comments from political strategist and podcast host Anat Shenker-Osorio during an interview with The.Ink.

She said: “the name of the game is resistance, refusal, and ridicule (meaning messaging with some sass)."

To preserve your mental health: “Pick one thing you care about and can be motivated to stay the course with. There are so many things happening at once that we can all become like cats chasing a laser pointer and make ourselves nuts.”

Go as local as possible.

If you pick education, for instance, “organize a potluck to discuss a course of action. Look up in the public record when the next school board meeting is in your local community. Go and make statements about ensuring that all children have the right to learn the truth of our past, and that all children have the freedom to belong and be who they are within their schools. And that you oppose any kind of effort to implement the draconian fascist agenda in your own community."

“Do something fun and entertaining and get together beforehand." One of authoritarians’ most powerful weapons against us is to inspire despondency and a sense nothing-can-be-done and “to suck our joy, our uniqueness.”

Maybe “wear your beliefs. Maybe put up a billboard in the middle of nowhere that shows people across the gender spectrum just having themselves the best possible time. You will get so much local media and local attention because it is a saucy message. Show-not-tell that you do not agree with what they are doing. That you refuse it.”

“Support union efforts. A place where deep and authentic organizing actually happens. One of the most important keys to fighting autocracy is a strong, integrated, active in-your-face labor community."

“And remember that moments of extraordinary rupture become moments of extraordinary possibility." The New Deal wouldn't have happened without the decimation of the Gilded Age and, God forbid, the Depression. Stay informed. It is in the what-the-F-is-going-to-come-next where invention comes.

“The most fundamental truth of life is that the future is made out of decisions that we take collectively. We make the future. What comes next will be decided on the basis of what we do. And that's up to us.”

Happy WOMEN’S HISTORY, y’all. Let’s go make some ourselves...​​​​