The Women’s March on Washington, D.C., was an occasion for people to be creative and even humorous with their signs. Quite a few made me laugh — “Ugh, Where Do I Even Start?,” “We’ve Made a Yuge Mistake,” and “I Shouldn’t Have to Write Pussy on a Poster” were among my favorites at Tucson’s sister march. But there was one that not only made me laugh, it also resonated with me: “So Bad, Even Introverts Are Here.” Someone tweeted it from the march in New York City, and last I checked it had 94,000 “likes,” meaning I’m not the only one who could relate.
There has been some criticism leveled at people for whom the Women’s March was their first public protest. Things were already bad enough for us to be rallying in the streets, they say, so what took you so long? While I understand that line of thought, I get a little prickly at the suggestion that attendance at a march or rally is the only way to “do” activism. Yes, the Women’s March in Tucson was my first protest, but it was not my first activism.
I’m glad I expanded the boundaries of my comfort zone and allowed myself to be publicly counted.
As a teenager, I was happiest with volunteer activities that kept me far from the limelight, like stuffing envelopes for Planned Parenthood and the ACLU. Crowds, chants, spectacles — not my thing. I didn’t want to be interviewed by the local news, and I didn’t want my photo in a newspaper. I tried my hand at going door to door, but it filled me with so much anxiety that I never did it again. My activism, such as it was, waned as I buckled down on my studies in university, and it wasn’t until after I moved to Arizona that I started seeking out more opportunities — and explicitly looking for behind-the-scenes work where my introversion and dislike of crowds and cameras wouldn’t hold me back.
While there was plenty of work for people who didn’t mind making cold calls or canvassing neighborhoods, I found adequate demand for my skills — writing, data entry, and even the occasional stuffing of envelopes. I’m glad there are folks who can throw themselves on the front lines, changing hearts and minds on a one-on-one, face-to-face level. I’m glad there are folks who go to marches and wave signs, adding their bodies to the throngs of other people standing against injustice. We need those people. But I always felt perfectly content behind the scenes, contributing in my own quiet way.
Yet on January 21, I found myself in Armory Park in Tucson, joining thousands of Women’s March protesters. And on March 7, I made the split-second decision to show up after work at a spur-of-the-moment protest at Rep. Martha McSally’s office, waving signs to passing cars on Broadway Boulevard.
So what changed? Continue reading