How ‘Pussy Hats’ Made Me Feel Excluded — And Then Welcomed — At The Women’s March
For trans women, vagina-centric rhetoric can be painful. But thanks to a kind stranger, my march experience was ultimately affirming.
I was cold.
I had rushed out the door of my apartment and forgotten a scarf, hat, and gloves on my way to the Women’s March in wintry Portland, Maine, and that was my overwhelming feeling — I was just bone-chillingly cold.
A thought struck me: What I wouldn’t give for a hat.
I came to the march by myself, and knew I would possibly be marching by myself. I only knew of one other person who was planning on joining, and when I texted him, he had yet to arrive.
But even though I knew I may be doing so without company, participating in the protest felt like a moral obligation.
I came to march for Planned Parenthood, my hormone provider. I was just in their office for a check-up last week, and I could see the worry lines on the nurse’s face when I asked about the health-care provider’s political situation. I came to march for my daughters, both young children, so that they may have a better life. I came to march for women, especially women of color and my fellow trans…
