I was trapped on a train with smug ‘Women’s March’ feminists. This is what I overheard.
by Carly Hoilman
After spending a busy inauguration week in D.C., I couldn’t have been more ready to board the train home to New York City. As I waited at Union Station, I felt the adrenaline leaving my system, and began to notice how completely drained I was.
The task that took the greatest toll on me, I realized, was covering the Women’s March on Washington Saturday. Beyond the normal fatigue that comes after writing, tweeting, and Facebook Live-ing for hours on end, the Women’s March left me feeling less satisfied and more desperate … and even angry.
After boarding I observed, to my dismay, that the train from D.C. to Penn Station was packed with Women’s March attendees — a horde of smug feminists, some still carrying signs and sporting their pink “pussy” hats. There was one exception: a college-age girl wearing a “Make America Gay Again” hat.
I tried to continue listening to music and scrolling through the news on my phone, but my attention kept straying to the conversations around me.
One teenage girl was reading an article aloud to her mother, sharing how “cute” and “awesome” it was that former Secretary of State John Kerry spent his “first day off” walking his dog through the Women’s March in D.C.
I overheard a man talking on the phone (rather loudly), giddily discussing all the speakers he saw at the march. He gushed over Gloria Steinem, who co-chaired the event. I tried not to giggle, recalling how the feminist icon bemoaned a male-dominated society in the speech she delivered Saturday:
“God may be in the details, but the goddess is in connections. We are at one with each other, we are looking at each other, not up. No more asking daddy.”
“Oh my gosh,” I thought to myself. “These people really feel like they’ve turned the country on its head.”
A middle-aged woman sitting across the aisle from me with her tween son sipped red wine while explaining to an older woman nearby how she had a “great time,” but regretted not being able to meet up with her “friends from Planned Parenthood.”
I witnessed others catching up on Instagram and Facebook posts, adding the occasional triumphant remark about “making history,” “speaking out,” “sending a message to Trump,” or “impeachment.”
“Oh my gosh,” I thought to myself. “These people really feel like they’ve turned the country on its head.”
After what felt like the longest three-and-a-half hours of my life, we had arrived. I exited the train and hopped on an elevator with four other women. An older woman, with short, spiked hair, turned around to ask everyone if we were coming from the march.
“YES!” two pink-hatted women responded immediately, beaming with satisfaction. I remained silent, but the woman who inquired gave us all a big thumbs-up.
My ride on the Mutual Affirmation Train was like attending the March on Washington all over again: Crowds of like-minded, mostly white urban women celebrating how “strong,” “educated,” and “virtuous” they all are. I felt like the undercover conservative, harboring secrets I was sure none of these individuals were interested in hearing.
In her speech Saturday, Gloria Steinem cited “violence against females in the world” as to why there are “fewer females than males” alive today. As the crowd roared, I thought to myself, “She had to have meant abortion, right? Does she hear what she’s saying? Do these protesters?” I’m certain that I was alone in my thinking.
I am just as offended by Trump’s derogatory “pussy” comment as anyone else. But an average bystander watching the Women’s March participants — reading their signs and t-shirts, seeing their costumes, and hearing their chants — would reasonably conclude that feminists aren’t offended by the profane; they’re utterly obsessed with it.
This weekend, I stepped into the alternative universe that is the Left’s reality. There, everyone agrees with everyone, and even when they lose, they win. Lack of self-reflection and critical thought is pervasive. It’s how I imagine an insane asylum feels.
Needless to say, I’m happy the march is over. I’ve never felt so keenly aware of how broken our culture is — with hundreds of thousands of militant women around the world boldly asserting their right to kill unborn children, threatening any man or women who dares to stand in their way. How confidently did they assume that no reasonable person would object to their noble cause. How wrong they were.
Carly Hoilman is a Correspondent for Conservative Review. You can follow her on Twitter @CarlyHoilman.
Originally published at www.conservativereview.com.
