Women’s March on Washington

I’m just back from the Women’s March on Washington.

I’m not someone who enjoys standing in large crowds with hundreds of thousands of people in the gilded age of ISIS and gun crime, but I felt compelled to march because I don’t like being told what to do.

It’s a challenge, really. There’s a fat orange man at the White House who thinks he has the right to boss me around. Maybe he does, and maybe he doesn’t. He’ll push my buttons, and I’ll test the limits of my constitutional right to protest. As Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”

I like my odds.

I also liked seeing dudes of all stripes stand in solidarity with their wives, sisters, and friends. These men seemed supportive of the day, even when Ashley Judd talked about blood stains on her bed sheets. I can’t blame them for cringing. I made the surprised emoji face myself. But liked how they were comfortable admitting their love for strong, opinionated, passionate women who take charge.

And, while I’m not about to pat a guy on the back for being a decent human being and supporting women, I think we should recognize male contributions to feminism, too.

These awesome men — these fellow feminists who probably hate that name — are partners and collaborators in the larger movement to change the world and make it better. So if you marched for women in DC or anywhere in the world, thank you. If you stayed home and took care of the kids while your wives and partners marched, that’s called parenting. But thank you for doing that.

And if you’re a guy who jokes about feminism and social justice protests, I understand your insecurities. But it’s time to get on the bus before it leaves without you. God knows you can’t manage life without your wife. Don’t test her capacity to tolerate you. It’s 2017, and you’re gonna lose that fight, bro.