What Really COUNTS: A Sea of Pink Pussy Passion

TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

img_4506I decided to go to the March on Washington, as a promise to myself that I would never let hopelessness define me again.

This past Election Day I woke up, literally and figuratively, to the realization that as a 53-year-old woman, I’ve never truly believed I could be or do whatever I set my mind to– that my insecurities and fears, which have followed me since childhood, were driving the train, not me. I woke up, and for one blue-skied, incredible day, I felt a giddy sense of hope, which had become foreign to me. By the end of the day, those feelings seemed crushed beneath the shocking outcome of an election that blindsided so many. For the record, I’d spent weeks believing Donald Trump would win– not because I’m smarter than pollsters and experts, but because I sensed, on a very deep level, that this horrible man, in…

View original post 2,640 more words

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s