Please Prove Me Wrong


I would like to be wrong.

I spent Saturday obsessively watching television and social media, amazed by the tide of pink protesting the misogyny, racism and bigotry that people fear the new president will bring.

I watched despite my hearty agreement with the sentiments because, as I said in my last blog, I have never seen a protest create real change.


Instead, I signed up for local government committees, I joined a few new organizations, and I gave money to causes likely to be stripped by those in power.

But the march was massive…it was creating a conversation. The new administration tried to lie about the numbers, and the media – and the images – weren’t having the lie.

And now?

Now is where I hope I am wrong.

Now is when the exhilaration of the unified march breaks down into the disparate pet causes, the drudgery of hard work, the glacial pace of social change.

Now is when the dilettantes drop off. All the administration has to do is wait for boredom to creep in. And after boredom, apathy.

Or not.

And here is where I hope I will be humbly begging for forgiveness for underestimating everyone. I might even don a pink knitted pussy hat if I’m proved wrong.

Please – prove me wrong.



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