–philosopher and author George Santayana

A new President will take power in our country this week. To say the campaign season, and even since the election, has been contentious is pretty much the understatement of this new century.

A divided country we live in, to say the least.

And I grew up in a divided nation, hitting puberty in the ‘60s, young womanhood in the ‘70s.

For those of you who are younger, I can assure you the ‘60s’ divide was much more violent. At least so far. On the backs of peaceful protests, we had tear gas and bullets fired to keep kids in check. In 1963, four black schoolgirls were killed in a Birmingham church. And Kent State still takes my breath away, all these decades later . . .

A volatile time indeed, we lost many of the great voices to violence. Kennedy and King and Kennedy again, to name a few—their memories and that of their deaths still stop my heart.

Many, many people (half the country, it seems), just don’t understand the current divide.

I mean, honestly, they don’t—they tell me so every day. The ones I speak with are good folks as well. They just don’t “get” it.

“Get over it,” they say. “The election is over, let’s move forward,” is a constant refrain.

And I can understand that—it’s the legacy of this country to move forward with the peaceful transition of power.

No one I know is arguing that the transition of power won’t be peaceful.

That doesn’t mean the other half of this country, who believe deeply into their souls that we’ve gone far awry, will accept this without voice.

Thank God the right to free speech is still alive and well in our society.

No matter how much it has been maligned of late, or how insidious the threats to it now filter through the airwaves, the right to express one’s views is still protected.

Whether we like those views or not, some of us want to make sure that Constitutional right remains.

This is why we march.

I grew up in a time when “coloreds” had to drink from different water fountains.

Seriously. For those of you who are younger, you have no first-hand image of the signs above two water fountains—perched side by side—designating which race could drink from which one.

But I do.

And that was just a symbol of a much more insidious truth.

This is why we march.

I grew up in a time when women had no access to birth control (except from the male family doctor, who often dined with the parents).

Much less to any recourse should the dreaded pregnancy occur. If it did, boys went on off to college and lives of their choices, while girls were hidden in shame, their choices limited to adoption or giving up college to raise a baby (alone).

For those living in the world post-Roe, you have no idea the terror. No idea how being boxed between no birth control (unless properly married) + no access to any recourse caused your very blood to freeze.

But I do.

Planned Parenthood for 100 years has delivered reproductive health care, sex education, and information to millions of people worldwide—many of whom have no access to it otherwise. The idea of de-funding it because the organization also provides low-cost abortion is insane.

And I understand being personally against abortion. That’s a belief system—and I honor your right to believe it.

But a woman’s right to choose is truly a different thing.

If I don’t have autonomy over my very own body, I have no Civil Rights.

This is why we march.

I was a child when President Johnson signed into law The Voting Rights Act in 1965.

Many whites (and I grew up in an all-white community) were outraged. Even though they were well aware of the various discriminatory practices used to prevent African Americans, particularly those in the South, from exercising their right to vote. On March 15, 1965, the President spoke to a joint session of Congress, outlining how election officials denied African-American citizens the vote.

Election officials often told Blacks they were at the wrong polling place, or had gotten the date wrong. Or, forced them to take literacy tests. They even forced them to recite the entire Constitution. Even blacks with college degrees were turned away from the polls.

During the Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s, beatings and murders and all sorts of violence were shockingly common. On March 7, 1965, six hundred marchers assembled in Selma, Alabama. Led by John Lewis (whom our president-elect recently tweeted is “All talk, talk talk - no action or results”) and other SNCC and SCLC activists, they crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge over the Alabama River en route to Montgomery. Just short of the bridge, Alabama State troopers and local police ordered them to turn around. When the protesters refused, state troopers attacked them with nightsticks, tear gas and whips, hospitalizing over 50 people.

Thanks to the invention of modern television, we watched this on the broadcast news. It is indelibly stamped in my brain.

In 2013, the U.S. Supreme Court gutted the historic Voting Rights Act, which required federal pre-clearance of voting law changes for states with a history of voter discrimination.

This is why we march.

I grew up in a time when women weren’t hired nearly as much as their male counterparts, especially right out of college, because of course, they would soon be home “taking care of the children,” their designated and rightful role.

Those of you born a decade later can’t really imagine being turned down for a job because you’re of child-bearing age, can you.

But I can. I heard this sentiment in my very home . . . I saw it happen to women I knew and respected. In many cases, women were barred from certain jobs. Take a gander at Hidden Figures for a glimpse into this not-so distant past . . .

This is why we march.

Many of y’all might not be able to imagine DDT being sprayed onto food crops, then leaching into waterways.

But I witnessed it.

In her groundbreaking 1962 book Silent Spring, Rachel Carson highlighted the dangers of DDT. Carson used DDT to tell the broader story of the disastrous consequences of the overuse of insecticides. This raised enough concern from her testimony before Congress to trigger the establishment of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).

Her work attracted outrage from the pesticide industry and many others. Her credibility as a scientist was attacked, and she was disparaged as being “hysterical,” despite her fact-based assertions and calm and scholarly demeanor.

Only after activists took their fight to the world were environmental laws enacted—over industry’s protests and politicians’ apathy.

Industry fought this as hard then as they fight big-coal legislation now, among many other environmental issues. And today, the very EPA is under attack . . .

Don’t believe the environment is in peril? Read Robert Kennedy Jr’s Crimes Against Nature.

“Just another liberal whacko,” many say.

The book is incredibly well researched and completely, thoroughly documented. As astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson is fond of saying, “The good thing about science is that it's true whether or not you believe in it.”

You have those same environmental wackos to thank for the banning of DDT, and many other environmental saves.

This is why we march.

I might not be of the same religious faith as you. Odds are, I’m not. I have friends from many different faiths.

And though our beliefs may be different, I defend your right to hold and practice yours.

That's one of the tenants our country was founded upon.

This is why we march.

This country is of course not homogenous. We all come from different circumstances, socio-economic groups. Ethnic tribes.