Lunch, Facial, Rally, March! International Women’s Day!

Photo by Patrick Merino

What a difference a week (actually 6 days) makes. In contrast to last week’s “emergency rally” that looked like this:

Yesterday’s Women’s Strike, looked like this:

The first picture was just too cute to resist, so to speak. The second is interesting as the wording engraved at the top of the Washington Square Arch, over which the words Women Strike! is superimposed, reads: Let us raise a standard to which the wise and the honest can repair. The event is in the hand of God. Washington.

And if you look up the street on the left within the arch, you can see the Empire State Building starting to light up, which appeared red at the time, but I later learned it was pink. (I like the red better)

When I saw the sign, I’m Here For My Sisters, with the dotted outline of two women, I started to cry. Not boo hoo crying, but there was a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes as I thought that I should be here with Vicki, and at the same time I felt I was also representing Davey, my brother who died of AIDS more than 30 years ago. For a good minute and a half, I was a mess.

So, while I am posting on an off-day, I’ll tell you about yesterday. I took the day off in support of the Women’s Strike, to represent, though I’m not big on the idea of strikes. They always just seem to hurt the innocent the most. But I am the body that could, so I scheduled the day off, moved my facial from 6:30 to 2:30 and got to the rally at about 4:30, after stopping at that great liquor warehouse on 8th and Broadway for a bottle of Pinot Grigio to have when Gilda gets here in this evening.

But first, lunch with Alberto, to which I walked, then since it was such a nice day, I wound up walking the rest of the way to midtown. And yes, I had a facial before the protest! And bought a bottle of wine, which I did pay for in more ways than one. After the rally, we marched, and marched. Early on when I realized that we had just circled the entire park and this may take a little longer than I thought, I decided that I would like to be up front, for the experience, not the exposure, plus we would arrive at the final destination earlier, which is three blocks from where I live. We marched throughout downtown Manhattan for 3 hours. Remember how I said that I needed sneakers and a small pocketbook? I haven’t done that yet. At least I could carry the wine in my big bag.

I have lots to say about it, like they should probably refrain from giving bullhorns to people with screechy voices, but mostly good things. It was invigorating.