Am I a bad feminist for not liking the Women’s March?

My two friends and I drove up to D.C. for the Women’s March (I could write a whole other blog on the peril of D.C. traffic patterns, but for now just picture three girls screaming as they barrel down what looks like the wrong way on the highway). I was equipped with a trendy Polaroid camera, a pink beanie, and my wokest friend, Amelia – ready to feel empowered and empower others.

I’ll preface this by saying I’m a total emotional sucker – meaning I fall for all things inspirational, and motivational. I get chills from a well-delivered “good luck” message from a teacher before a test. I tear up at emotional laundry detergent ads playing on the treadmill TV monitor with the sound turned off. If I watch a particularly moving Ted Talk I’ll show it to everyone I know for weeks. That being said, I basically expected to melt into a puddle at the Women’s March. As it turned out, it didn’t really do it for me.

We got to the Freedom Forum just before 11 and were met with a sea of pink with colorful signs dotting the crowd. Snow started to fall (which quickly turned to sleet) and I was excited to start the march. We listened to the speakers, joined in on a Chilean protest song, and began the march (“march” is too strong a word, from where we were wedged in the middle of the pack it was more of a “shuffle”). We shuffled along, saw some witty signs, heard some chants (of varying relevance) and made it about a block before we peeled off and called an Uber to go see the US Botanical Garden.

Yes, it was 28 degrees and sleeting. Yes, we were cold and wet. But we also didn’t really see a reason to stay. All in all, it was an awesome day: it felt good to be a part of something, we visited the Botanical Gardens and the Library of Congress, had an insane dinner at this Mediterannean restaurant called Zaytinya, and stopped by the Lincoln Monument at night.

I didn’t even realize I wasn’t a huge fan of the march until I was back in Chapel Hill and my friends asked my how the Women’s March was, to which I found myself responding, “D.C. was great!” I think of myself as a feminist, and am inspired by incredible women every day. What I realized at the Women’s March is that I’m truly inspired by those who surround me. I can totally see the camaraderie and support one may feel by being surrounded by strangers all with the same goal, but I found myself looking to Amelia and Demi by my side. I feel more uplifted by kind words from a friend than an echoing voice on stage. I’m more inspired by my mom going back to work after years of raising me and my brothers than the stories of mothers and women I don’t know. All sides are inspiring and each story is important, but I’m glad that I now know where to look for inspiration.