TRUMPOCALYPSE NOW! 

Page 3 of 4

It was all about representation because, of course, these women have no representation. We heard it over and over as we left for the Women's March on Washington. "Represent Us!"

We were going for a catharsis of sorts. Maybe there would be some effect on the congressmen who saw hundreds of thousands of women marching to the Capitol. But no one really expected to change the minds of the giddy new administration taking office as it pumps up its arms and assumes that women are less than men, that women should not have the right to choose what happens to their bodies, and that most women are frankly sixes at best.

No, it wasn't an anti-Trump or pro-Hillary demonstration, although speakers lashed out at the toxic words of the new president. Well, Ashley Judd and Madonna might have taken it to the next level, and now there's talk of investigating the latter for threatening to blow up the White House. OK, Madonna. We all know her only explosions are on stage, but we also know there is little, if any, humor in this presidency.

Things went pretty smoothly, except when Michael Moore was cut short during a rant against the Democratic National Committee, the same happening to Charlotte Johansen when she might have gone on a bit too long about Planned Parenthood.

This was a '60s throwback march by the new, older and grayer hippie, the disenchanted millennial, the LGBTQ community, artists, parents and men, people of all colors and kinds—despite the multiple posts before the marches asserting that these were all about "privileged white women." White women did start the movement, but a white woman started the NAACP, too. I asked several black women at the march what they thought about the white-privilege stuff. Their answers: "I've never heard that." Total strangers stopped in coffee shops, on the street and in the metro station just to thank each other and hear one another's stories.

A friend and I carried panels designed by Utah artist Jann Haworth, the co-creator of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover. Haworth had created an installation of seven panels depicting strong women throughout history—partly because Shirley Temple was about the only "woman" on the original album cover. The 2-by-4-foot panels drew comments of stunned appreciation.

The march had a lot of rules, permeated by a certain amount of fear. We weren't supposed to carry sticks to hold posters—or knock anyone upside the head. A lot of women thought maybe they should wear diapers, despite the presence of many porta-potties and the unintentionally comic "Don's Johns" portable toilets.

Some marchers brought masks, vinegar and swim goggles just in case they got tear-gassed. None of that happened. As the march headed toward the White House, there was talk of protesters blocking the path. But not even the police could contain the sea of pink "pussy" hats and posters. While thousands discarded their posters in front of the White House, others broke off, idly passing a "Bikers for Trump" jam in the park.

We heard that drones and helicopters buzzed the Los Angeles march. The only things that broke the peace of the Washington march were a few pigeons and a random balloon that had escaped someone's grasp.

The inauguration itself was a gray-clouded drizzling event, although the soon-to-be-president noted that the rain stopped just as he emerged. Because, you know, he commanded it. The skies remained overcast and gloomy into the day of the march. We arrived around 8 a.m. to meet the 700 other Utah delegates at the Air and Space Museum. Buses full of Utah women had rolled in from Philadelphia and Boston as it was nearly impossible to book flights to D.C. Not all of them gathered as a group—probably because the unexpectedly large crowds were being redirected around the Mall.

Marchers—a kind of euphemism since there was more standing and a lot less marching—stood for up to six hours as speakers, rappers and feminist icons galvanized the crowds. The messages were that women are under attack, that we are becoming a nation of ignorance and that we were marching for the 53 percent of white women who "voted for the other guy." "Women are the wall and Trump will pay," said one. "I can respect the presidency but not the president," said another. But the overarching message was that voting counts and voices must be heard.

Slideshow Washington, D.C., Women's March

19 slides

Washington, D.C., Women's March

Click to View 19 slides