by Geraldine Neville
On January 21st, along with millions, for many reasons, I marched. I marched because having lost my mother too early to cervical cancer, I know too well the importance of access to preventive and reproductive health care services. As a Louisiana resident, I’ve witnessed the effects of poor public health policy on our communities. As a first generation, Latin American, born of formerly undocumented parents, I understand that born a generation or two later, I too might be considered an “anchor baby” by some. I marched in solidarity with my LGBTQ friends, all people of color and because climate change is a scientifically proven fact.
So now what? After the signs are recycled and the pink pussy hats are tossed in a drawer, forgotten until they pair well with an early Mardi Gras costume, how does a march become a movement?