From D.C. with Love: A Grateful Man’s View From Inside the Women’s March on Washington

My mother is a woman. The person to whom I owe the most, my aunt, is a woman.

My best friend is a woman. My editor is a woman. And so are my most valued clients.

My inspiration, favorite artist, singer, actor — all women.

If I could have voted in November, I would have done so for a woman.

My guardian angels are my two grandmothers. And my future is my two goddaughters.

When I pray, I pray to a woman: the Virgin Mary. When I cry, I long to be in the arms of a woman.

So, when the women in my life call, I run… or better: I march.

On Saturday, an estimated half million people attended The Women’s March on Washington, with more than a million more people marching worldwide — all to remind the new American administration, and the entire world, that listening to, engaging with, protecting, supporting, and empowering women is in the best interest of us all. For they usually have our best interests at heart themselves.

“Women’s rights are human rights” was declared more then 20 years ago by a formidable former First Lady during a speech she gave in China. Today, more then ever, that call resonates with anyone who feels the pressure to make the world a better place.

My journey started at my D.C. home, making coffee for our friend Sarah and her daughter, Lauren, who came from Houston to march. We joined our neighbors and friends and walked towards the National Mall.

Walking can be a wonderfully soothing experience. It allows you to feel part of a crowd, and of something bigger than yourself; feeling small and powerful at the same time. It also allows you to be alone, to meditate, and contemplate your surroundings: to look up to the many monuments of mankind’s achievements and struggles; to confront the symbols of power of the capitol; to study the crowd, and understand the multitude and uniqueness of people that have so much, or so little in common with you, but nevertheless are undeniably part of you.

Saturday, for a brief moment, I felt I truly belonged to a society that, while at times can be self-obsessed and egocentric, can also rise to the challenge of a bigger call.

I did not tweet, post nor snap. I instead looked into the eyes of my fellow human beings, catching their gaze while receiving sympathetic smiles back. I read their signs, studied their slogans and empathized with their many different causes, fears, and hopes.

It was warm. It was exhausting. It was joyful. It was painful. It was humorous. It was somber. And it was important.

I was there.

Filippo Tattoni-Marcozzi is PaperCity’s European Editor at Large. A native of Italy, Tattoni-Marcozzi now lives in Washington, D.C., where he is an art advisor. Follow him on Instagram @filippotm.