Alberta

I am sitting in my Feminist Literature course in Greenlaw, eating Chic-Fil-A chicken tenders that I snagged from Lenoir on my way to class, waiting for it to be 3:30.

At 3:28, my professor walks in. I say this in the most adoring way, truly, but she is the female version of Albert Einstein- in looks and in demeanor. I will refer to her as Alberta.

To give you a visual image of Alberta….

She speaks with complete passion and astounding intellect as she waves her hands theatrically as if always looking for something to metaphorically grab- a thought, an opinion, an insight. Her grey frizzy hair follows this movement and adds to her oddity. She engages students the entire class period. Her lecture is a roller coaster- her volume the cart and her syntax the track. She loudly pronounces the thoughts that provoke emotion. She whispers softly the thoughts that provoke further contemplation. She is eccentric, enrapturing, and startling.

I didn’t know what I signed up for. Our assigned reading was Elaine Pagels’s “What Happened to God the Mother?” which I read and diligently annotated. Her first words of class were “Screw Pagels we are discussing the march” or something of the sort.

Alberta goes on to detail the experiences of her time at the march, and they go a little like this:

It is the morning of the march, and she meets in the lobby at 6 a.m. to walk over to their chosen spot in the crowd. Her group of “fellow feminist scholars” was able to land a spot very close to where they had initially planned. Things were going well.

Crowds were already filtering in. It was a maze of bodies, no way out. When Alberta had to use the restroom, it was an hour feat to make it to the porta pottys.

What an incredible site. Signs saying “Make America Think Again,” “We are STILL doing this?” and “We Will Overcomb.” She saw college daughters and their mothers linking arms, fathers and daughters standing in solidarity, old women in wheelchairs, and young girls with smiles on their faces.

The police officer closest to Alberta even raised his fist in support at her as she walked by.

The pivotal moment of her story happened when the march was coming to a close. She was exhausted, her shoulders felt as if 20 pound barbells were resting on them, and her feet ached. A sea of people were headed onto the subway out of the city, when someone in the crowd screamed “They are saying we reached a million!”

Tears flooded her eyes as the crowd ERUPTED in joy. Back at the hotel, she caught up on the news, learning that there were even marches in Antarctica. “What a time!” she yelled in class, startling everyone.

I had goosebumps on my arms the whole time. It was in this moment that I realized how huge this moment is. When I am a professor standing in front of my class of young students one day, I will be telling them about the march that happened when I was their age, in which thousands and thousands of women came together to stand up for themselves.

It was also in this moment that I realized people like Alberta spark passion, curiosity, and agency in people, and they need to be recognized. My fellow classmates all raised their hands after her story, to share experiences and emotions they had while attending marches in D.C., Raleigh, and Charlotte.

Alberta ended class by showing an image of her at the march, sitting on a curb, with two of her friends around her arms, all holding signs. She then flipped to another image- the same exact picture, with the same people, same positioning, but it was taken at a women’s march in the 1970s. She has spent the greater part of her life fighting for what she believes in, educating herself on feminist literature and female writers, speaking with others to understand their thoughts and opinions, and travelling to play a part in history. Is she happy with her story? Who knows. All I know is that her story isn't over just yet.

#WomensMarch #WashingtonDC #FeministLiterature #UniversityofNorthCarolinaatChapelHill