Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett: I’m marching to be with others who believe in equality, justice and human rights
I will be marching in London on Saturday because I still can’t quite believe this is happening. The horror that I felt when Donald Trump was elected has not subsided. I still cannot believe that a man who has shown such contempt for women, disabled people and people of colour could become the most powerful person in the world.
I’m marching because my brother, the man whom I helped to raise and the person on this planet whom I love the most, is severely autistic. When I was at school, kids on the bus used to imitate the noises and the gestures that he made. Now the sort of school bully that I thought I had left behind will be president of the US. And just as I fought them, I will fight this.
I’m marching because I don’t want to be alone when that happens. I feel a profound need to be with other people, particularly other women, who believe in equality, justice and human rights. And because the thought of dumbly watching without making my displeasure felt is too depressing for words. I want to stand in solidarity with women in America whose reproductive rights will undoubtedly come under attack. I want them to know that we are out there, thinking of them, and fighting for them.
I’m marching because a man who is much, much more stupid than Hillary Clinton and millions of other women, has been granted the power he has, partly because of his gender and despite his designs on women’s rights. And I want the daughter I hope one day to have to know that I was not OK with that. That I am not OK with the continued abuse, harassment, violence and discrimination suffered by women. That I am not OK with this man’s indifference to climate change, and his views on race and incompetence. That I am not OK with the fact that the elite are already gradually normalising him.
This situation is far from normal. It is distressing, and embarrassing, and terrifying, and I can’t just do nothing. That’s why I’m marching.
Micah White: I’m preparing for the day after the march when we need to get serious about building a social movement
I’ve been an activist all my life, but I am not joining the mass marches against Trump this weekend. This is why.
Right now the biggest challenge facing American activism is not the size of our protests or the volume of our dissent. Instead, what is holding us back from winning is that even if, by some stroke of divine luck, our protests were to topple Trump, we have no movement capable of taking power and governing after his fall.
Our leaderless social movements remain incapable of making complex decisions together. We can raise awareness but we are still unable to win elections. American activism is lagging behind our comrades in Europe who have built powerful electoral movements such as Spain’s Podemos, Italy’s Five Star Movement and Iceland’s Pirate party. Until protesters in America are backed by a credible movement that can win elections and govern effectively, our street protests will remain a performative temper tantrum, at best.
How to win elections and govern is the essential challenge that every genuine activist must now turn to solving. In the weeks and months ahead, I’ll continue the revolutionary experiments that I’ve begun in my tiny town in rural Oregon. I’m confident that if the collective creativity of American activism is oriented toward replicating the successes of electoral movements abroad then we can pull it off bigger than anyone else.
So when people ask me if I’m joining the Women’s March in my community this weekend, or if I’ll be flying to DC to be raucous with my movement buddies during the inauguration, I tell them the truth: I’m staying here and preparing for the day after the march, when the protesters return home and are ready to get serious about building a social movement that uses protest to sweep the midterm elections in 2018. I’ll be waiting for you.
Mary Jane Wells: An inauguration ball gives me a platform to highlight sexual consent
I am a British-born actress and writer whose recent work revolves around sexual trauma. Tonight, I’m going to a ball celebrating the inauguration of a man who is the focus of at least 24 allegations of inappropriate sexual behaviour. What the hell am I doing?
I was invited to the Vetty’s Presidential Inaugural Ball after working on a film called Holy Hell, about a sociopathic narcissist cult leader. So when I received an invite and the opportunity to speak for a few minutes in front of a crowd of US military top brass and – potentially – President Trump, I was torn.
I live in a Californian echo chamber, where everything was sunshine, grapes and pantsuitable possibility. And then Trump won. I decided, despite my violent opposition to all he stands for, to attend the ball. I am not a celebrity, my boycott would mean nothing, and personal politics are inconsequential when there is an opportunity for a conversation about sexual consent, vulnerability and addiction to power with the leader of the free world – and especially this one.
This is about leadership. We need more women in positions of military command, and access to an independent justice system for military sexual trauma (MST) survivors. We need women in the army to no longer be blamed with the old boys’ club adage of “You know what happens when you put boys and girls together …”. With a weak commander-in-chief, the values that sustain a prepared, cohesive military force also weaken, while sexual assault, bullying and mobbing systematically increase.
During my moment on stage, I will stress the need for an independent inquiry into all incidences of MST. The US army is the most powerful in the world, and potentially an incredible force for peace. How is that peace ever achievable with an inward-looking system that potentially demands reporting to your own assailant? But such peace is a pipe dream unless it is brokered first between soldiers on the same side. I hope the crowd will listen.
Nona Hurkmans: Our banners tell vulnerable people they are not alone
What’s the point of protesting against an American president in the UK? What use is it? The point is visibility. And the use is showing our support to people who feel nervous about this presidency. This Friday, Bridges Not Walls – a collaboration between different organisations and individuals – is dropping banners with positive messages on more than 100 bridges (or mostly bridges) across the UK and around the world. Messages such as “Build bridges not walls”, “Still we rise” and “Queer solidarity smashes borders”.
The aim is as simple as the action: to let vulnerable communities and individuals know that we stand with them. And there are a lot of these communities: women, Muslims, migrants, people of colour, disabled people, LGBTQ people, anyone whom Donald Trump has mocked, insulted, threatened to exclude or shown a complete lack of respect for. The list is long.
The message we’re trying to put out is that we’re here, we’re with you, we’ll stand up for your rights, and we’re not going anywhere.
And this message is not just for Americans. This isn’t just about Trump. In Britain, we’ve seen plenty of the language Trump has used, and it’s had an impact. Recorded hate crimes in the UK were up 41% in the month after the Brexit vote compared with the same month the year before. And who’s surprised, with the kind of billboards Nigel Farage sees fit to put up – a giant materialisation of a Trump tweet complete with visuals. “Breaking point” indeed.
Even Theresa May couldn’t do better than to say she’s looking forward to working with the man who once suggested a female political opponent was too ugly to be elected.
With our banner drops on Friday, Bridges Not Walls hopes to signal to vulnerable people that this should not be the new normal. You are not alone. You can speak up. Because what happens next is up to us.