What was she wearing?

"It's hard to take a person seriously when they're wearing a pink kitten hat," he scoffed.

It doesn't have to be a "he" stringing these words into a sentence, and sending it out as a mantra into the world wide web. I’ve heard plenty of women spit out pink invective. 

But in this case, it was a member of the male gender putting his weight behind what he thought was a mighty statement.

I didn’t bother to argue.

Maybe to most people, "serious" looks a certain way. It keeps its head level and its countenance formal. Serious wears a suit and never smiles. Not even with its eyes.

Who am I to argue style over substance?

That's not the battle I'd ever pick.

I'm not a protestor, mind you. Not that I think there's anything wrong with joining crowds and waiving signs, I've just always thought of myself as an observer. A journalist. A person just outside of the moment, pressing my face up against the glass, taking pictures for posterity.

Of course, in truth, I have an opinion.

As I weave among the crowd reading signs and committing them to the memory card of my camera, I can’t help but feel a certain amount of solidarity.

I feel safe here. Welcomed, even, as I blend into the crowd.

A face smiles as my shutter flaps. I smile back as I ask for names and what brought them to this place today.

I listened to the speakers who talked about fear and hatred and love.

They talked about women and men and children. About community and compassion. About how equality lifts everyone up.

They spoke of service, and hard work, and change.

They told their stories. Where they had come from and where they hoped to go. They spoke about togetherness.

The scoffing man wasn’t there. It’s not his scene. I could hazard a guess that he’s just an observer, too. But he might be a letter-writer, or a lobbyist, or is working on an algorithm that will ensure human equality in some near future.

He might have the answer to a question no one has asked yet; I don’t know. I'd hate to dismiss whatever contribution he hopes to make.

Likewise, I don’t know what will happen to this movement given time and distance. I have to think change this big is more complicate being able to come up with a slogan that sticks. It's a process that moves so slowly we are unaware that it's happening. 

But “glacial pace” isn’t what it used to be is it?

The thaw seems to be coming faster and fiercer than ever before.

I was standing in a crowd, witnessing people of all types and descriptions, of all genders and ages, and I was moved.

They were protesting sexism, racism, neglect of the poor, the militarization of our communities and greed. They registered voters and inspired folks to run for office; running not as women, but as the competent people they are who will benefit society.

Time is not up. The clock is just being wound up.

And as I type this I can't stop thinking I had to pick this battle. Because it shouldn't be difficult to take women seriously. And it doesn't matter what she is wearing.