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Living in Missouri, I don’t always feel I’m among my people; this morning, in a profound way, I did.
There were babies and toddlers and children and teens and adults and the elderly; there were women and men; there were different races; there were nuns and bare breasts and countless pink you-know-what hats. The great majority were homemade and many were brightly-colored, and they said “This Is Not Normal” and “Black Lives Matter.” They said “Keep Your Tiny Hands off My Daughter’s Rights.“ They said “Nasty Nana” and “I could be asleep but you forced me to protest!
and wore a Black Lives Matter pin, which was not a common accessory among many of her white, middle-aged contemporaries at the march.
She said she hasn’t thought deeply about what steps come next, but that her home state isn’t exactly Trump country.
When “Fresh Off the Boat” aired on television, it seemed that people like me were the butt of a nationally understood joke — especially when Chinese people were portrayed by Korean actors. ” When I told an elementary schoolteacher “New York,” she shook her head and asked, “But where are you really from?
” As an adult, I cringed when a classmate asked, “What kind of Asian are you? On a date two years ago, the blond lacrosse player I met from Ok Cupid said between bites of sushi: “You’re Korean, right?
But they didn’t have a concrete plan for how to continue their political engagement after this weekend is over. “We can’t go home and go back to business as usual, because it’s serious,” she said.
Linda Dougall traveled to Washington from Oakland, Calif.
Some were struggling with the knowledge that, because the majority of white female voters in the United States went for Donald J. “We have to be uncomfortable, for as many years as it takes.” ST. Louis is that you often can’t tell if the person you’re seated next to at a dinner party, or chatting with at a playground, or buying shoes from, is a Republican or a Democrat.Trump, not Hillary Clinton, they might be part of the problem. It’s possible — and depending on where you are geographically, it’s likely — that the polite Midwesterner with whom you’re making chitchat about the weather voted for a president who seems racist, sexist and xenophobic.Erica Dixon, a science writer in Washington, wore a “Nasty Woman” ring and held up a sign across from the Trump Hotel reading “The future is feminist as f—.” While she voted for Hillary Clinton, she readily accepted the role white women played in this election. This is what made marching up downtown’s Market Street, from the train station to the Arch, so thrilling today: Everywhere I turned, there were thousands and thousands and thousands of fellow progressives, and they — we — were singing and chanting and cheering because we share a belief in civil rights and democracy.“You paddle like chicken,” he said, before showing me a better way to propel. But belonging is personal, fluid and multicultural. Though I had spent my life distancing myself from Asia, his xenophobia made me feel personally rejected.I had clung to being an American as my one immutable identity, not realizing that who I was could not be diluted. Before I knew it, my brother and I were both shouting at the television. I am Chinese-American, and he was talking about me.Tonight, my Chinese family and I will be at a restaurant in Brooklyn’s Chinatown eating fried tofu and Peking duck while Donald J. If you told me a year ago that we would be commiserating banquet-style while an internet troll was sworn in as president, I would have snorted derisively into my illegal shark fin soup.Growing up in Manhattan, the American-born child of immigrants from Hong Kong, I was embarrassed by my family’s strange holidays.As protesters flooded past the Trump Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, they booed, hissed, and made obscene gestures. Trump as Jabba the Hutt, the classic Star Wars villain, with Princess Leia standing triumphantly on top of him, choking him with a chain.Two young women stood outside the hotel in matching red “woman power” beanies and red lipstick.I never learned to speak the language, or even use chopsticks.Disney’s “Mulan” felt like a caricature of every stereotype I was teased about in school.