Whether you like it or not, whether you voted for him or not, and no matter if today has filled you with excitement, despair, or nothing at all, our nation has undoubtedly entered an entirely new era.
The day has weighed heavily on my heart. This morning I found myself not looking forward, but rather looking back to images of Selma, of John Lewis being beaten by the police, of the men and women who have struggled, fought and died for freedom they still have yet to fully attain.
And it has made me look back at my own past. I have always wondered where I got my strong desire for activism, travel, and furthering human rights. But over the years I have learned, and have to look no further than my grandmother. The same grandmother, who gave me my deep love of books, passed down to me the genes of activism. My grandmother, who volunteered with the Special Olympics in her youth (an organization I have been involved with since I was fourteen); who wrote letters for Amnesty International and helped free people all around the world; who was fair and equal and compassionate to her employees living with HIV/AIDS in the height of the crisis when other managers would not; my grandmother, who wanted nothing more than to march on Selma, march on Washington, who wanted to March.
I know where I come from, where my grandmother comes from, and where my country comes from. I don’t know where my country is going, but I know where I can go.
Tomorrow, cities all over the country will march in solidarity with the Women’s March on Washington. I will be there. And I encourage all of you to stand and march as well, to know where you come from and where you are going.
Peace and love,