By Nadrat Siddique
January 18, 2020
Washington, DC
I attended the Women’s March today. The mass action originated in 2017 with Donald Trump’s election, and was in its fourth year. Although I live in the DC area, and as my friends and family know, I rarely say “no” to a protest or rally for justice, it was my first time participating.
I was not convinced, by any means, of either the agenda or the modus operandi of the very White, very liberal feminist organizers. My primary objective in participating was to keep the name of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui in the public eye. The Pakistani neuroscientist-turned political prisoner was now in her 14th year of imprisonment for a crime she clearly could not have committed, and after a few murmurings from the government of Pakistani President Imran Khan about “bringing our sister home” (the suggestion was to repatriate Aafia as part of a negotiation between Pakistan and the U.S.), she seemed once again forgotten by those in the seats of power on both sides of the Atlantic.
But, it was not just about Aafia. To me, Aafia is symbolic of the many Muslim women prisoners who are abused, neglected, forcibly de-hijabed, raped, tortured, shackled, or separated from their children—all away from public scrutiny. Such treatment is commonplace not only in prisons on the mainland U.S., but also in U.S. “Black sites,” in Israeli prisons (whose interrogators and security personnel are frequently U.S.-trained), and in the prisons of U.S.-sponsored or supported dictators like Salman bin Abulaziz (Saudi Arabia) and Bashir Al-Assad (Syria). A women’s march with no mention of the suffering of all of these women would reinforce the idea that this was a privileged White Women’s bitchin’ fest.
The Women’s March organizers were, well, organized. There was not only the March on Saturday, but workshops and other events all week to build for it. These included a panel discussion Monday night called “Why Women Lead on Climate.” Tuesday night saw a panel entitled “Reproductive Rights, Health, and Justice, and the 2020 Landscape.” Wednesday night’s event was billed “Solidarity and the Immigration Justice Movement.” On Thursday afternoon, a shifting of gears occurred, as activists headed to the White House for a “No War on Iran” protest, which included non-violent direct action (civil disobedience). That evening, the women settled in to make posters for the upcoming protest at a “poster-making party.” On Friday afternoon, march organizers held a press conference at Freedom Plaza, the starting point for the March the next day. That night, they held a networking session for youth activists. And on Sunday, the day after the March, a “Fourth Wave Drag Lunch” was held, where participants had an opportunity to meet the March leadership. It was organized to a T, as only women can organize.
The website had numerous options for endorsing, contributing, and getting text updates for the March itself. There was a major pumping of Women’s March merchandise, on the website, as well as in follow-up emails and texts sent to recipients who opted in to receive updates.
(Amusingly, when I attempted to sign up for text updates, the system asked how much I would like to contribute. I checked the box for “$0, unable to contribute at this time,” as I did not wish to donate to what I considered a privileged, predominantly White feminist march. The system would not allow me proceed unless I contributed! I relented and checked the box for a hefty $5. Viola! I was registered to receive updates from the March.)
The Women’s March website had a map delineating the precise march route. That morning, I ran the Martin Luther King Day 5k in Carderock. It was 26 degrees during the race, and there was light snow on the trail we ran. After the race, I was in dire need of de-thawing. As a result, I arrived a little late at the March. Despite my late arrival, I was able to locate the march with ease—thanks to the map issued by the organizers.
By the time I arrived near Freedom Plaza, the starting and ending point of the protest, light snow had changed to rain and freezing rain. Mere blocks away from the protest, I nearly turned tail and left. It seemed highly unlikely that they would persevere in freezing cold precipitation. And yet, there they were.
As I caught up to the March, I realized its scale. Although far less than the 200,000 of the original 2017 Women’s March, which arose in response to Trump’s election, the women (and their male allies) were in the tens of thousands. As an organizer, I know how hard it is to keep up the momentum of a movement or protest action, and I applauded them for their resilience.
The predominantly White women marchers carried signs like “Impeach the Rapist,” “Keep Abortion Legal,” “Trump/Pence Out Now,” “Cage the Con, Not the Kids,” “Rise Up for the Earth,” “Reproductive Justice for All,” and “Fight the Climate Crisis, Not Birth Control.” When they reached the White House, they sang and danced to the song "Un violador en tu camino" ("A Rapist in Your Path"), following the lead of the Chilean protest group Lastesis.
I walked with the marchers briefly, then took up a position on a park bench across from DAR Constitution Hall, near the Ellipse with my sign for Dr. Aafia. The sign, which I’d hastily penned the night before, read: “Pakistani Women say: FREE DR. AAFIA SIDDIQUI, U.S. political prisoner.” Thousands of marchers passed, clearly intrigued by my sign. I received numerous thumbs up, fist pumps, waves of sympathy, and nods of appreciation. As my sign was unusual, many wanted to photograph it. Some of the marchers had heard of Aafia’s case. Others were intensely curious about who she was, why and where she was in prison, and whether I was related to her. It was an overwhelming positive vibe from the marchers, and I was glad I was there.
A while later, I could see the last few contingents of the march approaching. As my hands were numb from cold, I rejoined the group and headed back towards Freedom Plaza. En route, I stopped and did a brief Facebook live presentation on Aafia, and why I was there. Very soon thereafter, my colleague from the Aafia Foundation, Mauri Saalakhan, who has advocated for Aafia from the onset of her travails, shared the video with over thirty Facebook groups. This resulted in 3,400 views and 229 shares. Alhamdulillah.
Analysis
In July 2019, three of the founding board members of the Women’s March, Tamika Mallory, Bob Bland, and Linda Sarsour were forced to resign, in the face of allegations of “anti-semitism” (Orwellian Doublespeak for anything which questions, or fails to toe the line of the Zionists, however remotely). One more, Carmen Perez, was the target of similar accusations, but remained on the board. She did, however, have to write numerous op-eds apologizing for the Women’s March’s failure to address anti-semitism in a timely fashion.
Ostensibly to increase diversity in the leadership of the Women’s March, a 17-member Board of Directors was brought in. Of these, three are Jewish (Ginna Green, Ginny Goldman, and Rabbi Tamara Cohen), one is transgender (Isa Noyola), and one is queer (Charlene Carruthers). There are two Muslim women (Palestinian-American Samia Assed; and San Francisco CAIR’s Zahra Billoo).
But, the March’s aim of inclusivity and increasing diversity evidently did not extend to the denizens of the host city. Black Lives Matter-DC was outright excluded from the planning and logistics of the March. (This resulted in the American Civil Liberties Union’s DC chapter boycotting the March in solidarity with BLM-DC.) In addition to ignoring BLM, the Women’s March leadership failed to reach out to other prominent Black activist groups in DC, like the National Black United Front (NBUF), the Pan-African Community Action (PACA), the Nation of Islam, the Clara Muhammad School, Masjid Al-Islam, or the All-African Peoples’ Revolutionary Party (A-APRP), in advance of the event.
The Women’s March states as its three major focus areas: immigration, climate, and reproductive justice. Given this, and the current leadership, it was not surprising that there was no voicing of key Muslim concerns: the ongoing incarceration of Muslim political prisoners; the government’s failure to close Guantanamo; the continued U.S. bombing of Syria and Iraq; and U.S. support for Israeli Apartheid. While privileged White women marched for the right to have an abortion, women in Iraq and Syria yearned for the right not to have a U.S. missile land in their living room; or to have drinking water clear of cholera, and soil free of depleted uranium.
Major concerns of the Black and Brown community, like police brutality, the school-to-prison pipeline, and mass incarceration, while marginally present in the Women’s March in previous years, seemed almost completely absent at the 2020 march. To hold a protest in a historically Black city—and yet neglect such key issues seemed to me a major shortcoming of the March.
Even the timing of the March, on Martin Luther King Day weekend, seemed to me an act of hubris. It meant that DC’s limited resources—subways, buses, cafes, porta-potties, and much else—would go to serve the Women’s March, instead of for MLK Day activities. The women in the pussy hats had learned imperial patriarchy well.
© 2020 Nadrat Siddique
