I’m sitting and watching a panel surrounding Intersectional Feminism. One of the speakers is talking about readiness, and how we have to be ready for the magical of any given moment. I’m sitting here, and I’m honestly wondering if magic even exists anymore. I know it’s pessimistic. I know it’s cynical. But with everything going on, I have my doubts that clapping my hands will save a fairy from dying.
The moderator opens the panel up to questions. It’s time for the final one, and a brave soul up front says she’s struggling as a white woman, as a feminist, as an ally in today’s world. She’s wondering what she can do differently. The panel is looking at each other, curious who wants to field it. A voice in the back of the audience rings out. Her voice is shaky and she says she’s nervous.
She’s Latina and is having a similar issue with her friends, all of different ethnicities. She doesn’t want to tell her friends what to do or to have them come to her saying; “I’m here for you when you need me.” No, she needs them to step up and take action. To not only ask what we can do differently, but to really listen to the problems at hand. She keeps sharing her stories with us and now the two women are having a conversation with each other across a sea of people. It’s the most beautiful thing I have witnessed since the Women’s March.
I’m watching this unfold before my eyes but it doesn’t seem real. It seems like something out of a movie, something scripted by the creators of the panel to close the evening out. But it’s natural and real. It’s magical. And I can’t help but tear up at the sheer beauty of it. The conversation is ending and I can’t help but clap as loud as I can because once again I believe in the unbelievable.
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