Chauncey WoodsComment

We March

Chauncey WoodsComment
We March
EACH TIME A WOMAN STANDS UP FOR HERSELF- WITHOUT KNOWING IT POSSIBLY WITHOUT CLAIMING IT—SHE STANDS UP FOR ALL WOMEN
— MAYA ANGELOU.

January 21, 2017. We came together as women to show unity. I am so proud to be a woman. 

Our pussy does fight back and will continue to fight back.

As a black female, this Women's March is incredibly powerful. My soul and my heart are heavy.  As a black woman I am fighting for black lives matters, but not only that but for my reproductive rights, the LGBT community, feminism, and human rights.  Damn, I am fighting for everyone. Everyone who was distress after this recent election. We hear you! We are fighting for the rights for every woman. I refuse to let anyone tell us that we as women don't matter!

Stay Woke, Chauncey


Surrounded by strong women and I still find myself having to explain this struggle. Everyday, I look at two courageous women in my family and wonder if they knew what they had accomplished. My 94-year-old year grandma owned a store in the Bronx at a time when most women didn’t own a thing and faced tremendous barriers in the 1960s- 1970s. My mother became the first African-American woman to become an Assistant Director at SUNY ESF. I look at them with such pride and know where I get my strength, pride, and stamina to continue to fight. It’s sad that we have demand and take what is rightfully ours. In my poetic way, I reflected the following:

I Write America

I write America
because my previous
letters were dismissed.
For the women who have to explain themselves
and reason with what seems unreasonable.
When women can stop fighting
for the right to govern our body.
When dreams have no exclusion
of race or sexual orientation.
When the fear of unknown becomes
reason for learning and growth.
When dreams have no color.
When all the dreams
are considered “American” dreams.
I will stop writing, then start thanking America.
For now I just have dreams
engraved on my skin.
For the dreams that never get fulfilled
I continue to write America.


Still writing America, Melissa


I anticipated. I waited. I yelled. I moved. I marched.

I marched not just for me, I marched for her, for him, for my Mother, my Grandmother, my nieces, my nephews, my cousins, my friends, for the past, for the present, for the unborn, for you.

Standing in the crowd Saturday morning was beauty, strength, compassion, power, fearlessness all wrapped up in the moment. To partake in something so peaceful and meaningful gave me shivers down my spine. I am grateful for being able to witness that moment and see all of the empowering pictures, videos, and voices posted. This is only a ripple in this deep body of water, but with our ripples, the echoes brings out a larger cry. A larger voice. A larger impact. Change.

To my like-minded, vibrant open hearted wildlings out there, thank you for letting me be a part of something so grand. I will close my piece (for now) with pictures I took and a haiku I wrote. Yes, you probably haven’t seen a haiku in forever or know that I write poems. :)

 

I waited for you
Your calls chanted in the air
Together we flew

 

Holding your hand in the face of fear.

Always,
Kathleen


As I heard your chants, read your signs, saw your size, I felt your power.

Blessed to have witnessed such a historic event. There are very little words that can express the passion, unity, and pride that filled this nation and erupted in my heart.

Saturday Afternoon:

I sat on the train and prepared for the journey that lie ahead. Before following my usual routine of reaching for my headphones I took a second to look around. On a normal day my train would be filled with people hunched over little screens, staring out windows deep in thought or possibly not thinking at all. But today was different. As I glanced around my train a smile slowly appeared on my face at the sight of many pink covered heads that filled the seats in front of me. With posters in hand, smiles on their faces, and marching shoes on I knew I would forever have this memory ingrained in my head. That I would forever remember how I felt in this moment. Proud. Something I haven't been able to feel in the past few months. As I sat there and basked in it's powerful essence the train operator's voice came over the loudspeaker, "Due to extreme overcrowding and enormous amounts of foot traffic we are experiencing delays and will be moving shortly." What happened next will never in life happen again. All passengers looked at each other and as if in one singular thought began to cheer as the realization of the size of the march became apparent.

The Women's March was powerful and needed. We ignited a fire that we always knew was there but never thought we would have to be used again. To the women and men that marched congratulations on leaving your mark on history.

Continue the fight,

H