Carl Mumpower wrote a letter to the Mountain Xpress about the Women’s March [“Women’s Marches Lack Mature Focus,” Feb. 1]. My first response to Carl’s angry letter was anger. Of course. The ego always speaks first. Dr. King’s words lent me a hand. “An eye for an eye leaves everybody blind.”
My activist friend Nancye, who heads a mixed political group that raises money for disadvantaged women, had called in early December to tell me about the pink hats that Carl ridiculed. “Come by and get some yarn,” she said. My Colorado friend Cathy, a paragon of generosity and decency, a lifelong Republican from a Republican family, the mother of two daughters, was so appalled at Trump’s comments about grabbing women that she crocheted 50 hats. Neither Nancye nor Cathy could march. This was a way they could support the protest.
Three friends and I went to [Washington] D.C. together. One of us four wore a pink fleece hat she’d sewn, and she brought another to give away. The other three of us declined to wear a hat. We three weren’t fond of the very word Trump used that inspired the pink hats. Not that we minded anyone else wearing them. We understood and respected the choices of others. The pink hats made a great look to the march. They were fun to see. But I can understand Carl’s negative reaction.
I saw very few of the “profanity-laden” signs that Carl highlighted. The signs were one of the best parts of the day. The vast majority were humorous or meaningful, or both, and to me embodied the human desire to create that goes all the way back. I thought of those out-of-this-world cave paintings when I saw all the signs.
I made a sign and thought about the wording for weeks. “Sisterhood-Brotherhood-Solidarity-Kindness” was the final version, rimmed with “Kindness-Kindness-Kindness…” in a colorful border. It was a small, busy sign, and I was happy with it.
On the crowded Metro ride out of the city after the March, a black man, standing and looking as tired and happy as I felt, carried his large white sign down at his side. In the center of the sign, in neat black block letters, was written, “Power without love is reckless and abusive. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice.” Underneath were the initials “MLK.”
“That’s a great sign,” I said.
He smiled. “My son, who is 26, told me how to do it. He’s an artist. He told me, ‘You don’t want it too busy.'” We both laughed. That was one moment out of a day full of wonderful, loving, human moments. Peace be with us all.
— Anne Bevilacqua