Following the massive turnout of women at the Women’s Marches yesterday, a Facebook post by a woman named Rachel has been making the rounds. It seems she has garnered a fair amount of support from women who share her sentiments.
In essence, Rachel argues that she doesn’t need this march. She questions why any woman would feel the need to participate, claiming, “This is America; I have everything I need. If you don’t, it’s your own fault, and marching won’t change that.”
Here’s my response to Rachel and those who resonate with her perspective:
Hello, Rachel. Although we don’t know one another, your #NotMyRally post has appeared in my feed numerous times today, thanks to friends who echo your thoughts.
In many ways, our lives might not be as different as you think. I’ll make some assumptions here — and perhaps I’m mistaken — but I am a college-educated, professional parent living in a safe neighborhood filled with beautiful homes and large, shady trees. My days revolve around the typical suburban routine: my kids enjoy warm breakfasts before school, and I either head to work or the gym. I even get my groceries delivered. As a single mom, life can be chaotic at times, but I am genuinely thankful for what my children and I have. I fully recognize that many women in this country lack even a fraction of my privileges, and it’s not simply about effort.
Rachel, may I pose a crucial question?
When was the last time you had a genuine conversation with a woman whose life circumstances are vastly different from yours? Take your time to reflect on that.
You mentioned feeling like a “disgrace to women” for disagreeing with those who marched yesterday. That comment cleverly draws in those who might feel similarly and are searching for validation. It’s akin to saying, “I know I’m unworthy,” prompting friends to rush in with reassurances.
You claim that your voice is heard and that you don’t feel like a second-class citizen. But isn’t it possible that you feel heard because you’ve never experienced the absence of being heard? That you don’t feel like a second-class citizen because you’ve never lived that reality?
You believe you have control over your body. I do as well. In fact, I have my annual check-ups scheduled for next week, all covered by my insurance. However, a few years ago, my doctor suggested an IUD, which would have been a more suitable choice for me than other forms of birth control. Sadly, my insurance didn’t cover it, and the cost was around $1,000. I opted out, feeling frustrated that it was the only option with a hefty price tag, while other methods were fully covered. It’s a choice I could make, but not everyone is in that position.
Have you ever postponed an essential health appointment because your child needed something new, forcing you to choose and hope for the best? Many women in this country do not have access to free reproductive healthcare. Have you ever had to stop using birth control because the local clinic shut down, and the nearest one is across town? What if you’re balancing two jobs and the only car is occupied by someone else in your family? When you’re making the difficult decision about how to spend that $50, postponing an exam becomes a manageable choice.
Have you ever faced sexual assault or felt threatened? If so, did you truly have control over your body in those moments? Violence against women transcends socioeconomic status and location. It occurs regardless of one’s life circumstances, and it could be happening right in your neighborhood. When women face assault, they often lose control over their bodies entirely.
You mentioned you can find work if you want. You are fortunate, as am I. I do not require permission to work, unlike some women in our country. I’m not caught in a cycle of despair, feeling overwhelmed by a lack of job skills or transportation. There are countless women who desperately seek employment but cannot afford childcare. Are you aware of anyone facing such obstacles?
You can vote, as can I, and I always do. In the last election, I chose to become more involved and spent election day at a polling station. I assisted voters, offered guidance, and celebrated first-time voters. However, many women, especially from minority backgrounds, struggle with access to voting due to various barriers.
Imagine living in a world where your voice is never heard, where decisions are made about your life without your input. It’s easy to dismiss the struggles of others when you haven’t experienced them yourself. People often write off the experiences of those in need as poor choices, but life is not that simple.
The only person who can truly hold you back is yourself, right? I share that belief too. Both you and I have been encouraged and nurtured throughout our lives, leading us to believe we can achieve anything. But not everyone is blessed with that kind of support.
What about the atrocities faced by women in other countries? While I empathize with their plight, it’s essential to address the women right here in our own country who are struggling and deserve attention.
This brings me to the Women’s March. My participation was not driven by personal marginalization; it was about solidarity for those who can’t march. I marched for women from all walks of life — for those requiring reproductive health care, for young mothers needing support, and for survivors of sexual assault. I even marched for you, Rachel, even if you don’t feel you need anyone to stand up for you.
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In summary, the conversation surrounding women’s rights and access to resources is multifaceted and deeply impactful. While some may feel they don’t need the support of movements like the Women’s March, it’s crucial to recognize that many women still face significant challenges that require collective action and understanding.