I March for Kindness.

I wasn’t physically at any of the women’s marches this weekend, but there are a few things I’d like to say anyway. First I need you to know, my dear fellow women, that my absence doesn’t mean that I don’t care or that I don’t see you. Just because I didn’t wave a sign this weekend doesn’t mean that I care any less about the things you care about. I care more than you know and I need you to know that every day that I wake up,

I march for you.

Every time we talk on the phone and I hear your sighs and I hear your groans,

I march for you.

Every time we meet and I see the burden that you carry

I march for you.

I march for you

and the ones who just got used and dumped by men who didn’t see their value, just their bodies.

I march for the ones who get up every day and look a child in the eye,

whose father got too scared to stick around for them.

I march for the women who find themselves in situations I can only dream about,

the ones who feel they have no choice,

but to end the life of another.

I march for the ones whose jobs require them to be gone from the ones they love most

and the ones who couldn’t even dream of ending a pregnancy

if they ever had the chance to have one

I march for all of them.

I march for all my sisters who have been taunted,

teased,

abused,

intimidated,

left behind,

pushed aside,

silenced and abandoned by men.

I march for the ones who have found healing and the ones who are still angry,

the ones who believe in God and those who can’t anymore because they were made to think that it was him

and that he was like all the other men they knew

who used and disposed of them when they no longer served his purposes

I march for all the women, born and unborn, who are dying…

dying to know that they have value,

that they are loved and treasured not because of or in spite of their bodies

or their use to man,

but simply because they were created and they exist.

For the ones who are here and those who are still

waiting in the universe somewhere…

waiting to be born into a world where men and

women are equally valued and honored

where they are equally invited to the table,

equally heard,

equally welcomed and included,

equally protected,

and equally respected.

I march for you. I march for them,

and I march for kindness.

The kind that looks into the eyes of the ones we

don’t understand and disagree with

and are angry at

and it finds some compassion for how they got there.

I march for the goodness and kindness of

humanity

and for all the men across the world who are loving their women well,

who are standing in their masculine power and bravely

protecting,

honoring,

and healing the wounds of these women.

The ones who are listening and paying attention,

who are waking up in the middle of the night

with their women and children,

who are working long hours and not sleeping,

and choosing the hard work of trying to understand and of trying to stay connected

in a world that constantly misunderstands and tries to label them,

those who are laying down their lives and their egos

for the ones they love.

I march for all of them.

I march for ALL the women, young and old, in this land and across the world,

born and unborn,

to have a voice and find healing for their wounds and mistreatment from men.

And I march for men, ALL men who are willing to rise up and be the brave ones, who will fight for hearts instead of bodies, and won’t stop until their boys have become gentlemen and every single girl walks our streets in freedom.

I march for them every day when I talk to them and hear their stories.

I champion their causes, I celebrate their victories and I march for them.

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Hand-in-hand, and across the coffee table from me, because I believe they all have something to say and that if we listen close enough and if we are kind enough, we might even hear them all say the same thing.

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