Let's just set the record straight -- the March for Women's Lives this past Sunday was the largest and most amazing march for women's rights in history with an official count of 1,150,000 registered marchers. Women, men and children of all ages, races, and creeds from 52 different countries rallied against the Bush administration's 205 legislative actions that limit the choice of women around the globe.
What was it like to be part of this historic event? Energizing and passionate? Exhausting and frustrating? The one hundred and sixty Tufts students who were there may all have different answers and certainly all had different reasons for attending. Coming from a fairly non-political upbringing, I was nervous that I might lack the public action experience needed for this big of an event. But I knew that I had to be a part of it, hoping that the solidarity of the March would strengthen my pro-choice convictions and resolving that in the very least I would get to tell my daughters and granddaughters, "I was there."
More than one hundred powerful and passionate leaders spoke throughout the day, their pro-choice messages reflecting their varied experiences. Hillary Clinton proclaimed that the most important march was not this one but the one to the polls in November. Billie Avery praised the Women of Color organizations for expanding the March's focus to encompass the entire spectrum of women's health care, economic, and social needs. Frances Kissling spoke out for the liberal Catholic majority against the continuing anti-woman actions of the papal hierarchy. The organizations like the Medical Students for Choice, our next generation of abortion providers, asked for more public support because only one fifth of medical schools teach abortion procedures.
During the actual march, the energy of the million participants soared as chants were called out, songs were sung, and signs were waved. Many choice supporters lined the March route, cheering us on, some creatively displaying their messages with costumes and banners. The anti-choice presence was smaller than I had anticipated, dotting the sidelines in small, silent groups. One large stage of anti-choice activists lined Pennsylvania Avenue, screaming out to us with speakers, reminding us about our doomed fate. Although friendly chatter with other marchers easily blocked their voices out, their presence alone was enough to send some anxiety through the crowd.
A few of the marchers, including a large group representing the Socialist Workers' Party, seemed eager to engage in a harsh exchange of words with these anti-choice groups. This ignited passion and anger that set them apart from the majority of calm, hot pink emblazoned masses of marchers. Still, watching them jump around and lead loud cheers, I began to wonder, am I angry enough about abortion issues to be marching?
Although my Catholic identity holds many reservations about abortion itself, my social justice beliefs have convinced me to support choice. And yet I struggled to define my personal beliefs when I noticed anti-choice signs stating "Choose Life" and "Women deserve better than abortion" because I did not fundamentally disagree. What then makes me so different from them, to choose the opposite side of the fence? (Literally, as fences and police separated marchers from protesters.)
The March for Women's Lives was not simply a "pro-abortion" event and yet that debate drew the dividing line between marchers and protesters. I was marching for more than simply "choice"; I was marching in recognition that women are individual and intellectual moral agents who must be respected and trusted to make up their own minds about their bodies. I was marching to demand that the definition of women's (and families') health means more than just physical but also emotional, mental, social and economic health as well. I was marching because women do deserve better than abortion, we deserve freedom, equality, access, and social justice. I was marching because for women to choose life at all, they must be allowed the freedom of choice to begin with. In the seemingly black and white battle over choice, either you are for it or you're not; but even among those of us who have chosen a side, many shades of gray still exist.
Just after I passed the stage, I overheard a middle-aged marching mother explain to her slightly uncomfortable and confused pre-teen son that "sometimes it is hard to be an activist." I recognized those same emotions and was more than happy to take comfort in this bit of motherly wisdom. On the long bus ride home, I reflected on my experience at the March for Women's Lives and the rollercoaster of emotions I had felt throughout the day.
As I expected, the huge mass of supporters and the power of the speeches had reinforced my pro-choice beliefs. But I never could have predicted that it would be the uncomfortable, confused part of the day that would helped me to most clearly define what pro-choice meant to the activist in me. I hope my fellow Tufts marchers were also able to gain such a powerful experience from the March. Plus, either way, we still get to tell everyone, "We were there."
Lauren Dunn is a senior majoring in Comparative Religions.
