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Thursday, Nov 26, 2009
By 9:30 on Sunday, Steinem was already at the march, in a brown leather jacket, being bombarded by fans and the press. Just four months away from the December death of her husband of four years, David Bale, Steinem had been pulled in many different directions throughout the weekend. With professional and historical links to both Planned Parenthood and the Feminist Majority, who have absorbed Steinem-founded institutions Voters for Choice and Ms., respectively, the iconic feminist seemed the ideal dish served at every March for Women's Lives dinner, cocktail reception, panel discussion or breakfast meeting. "To a certain crowd, she personifies the women's movement," said Lafferty.
That morning at the march, the focus of feminist idolatry was broadening. "Oh my god, it's Betty Friedan," said a voice behind me, as organizers swarmed the 83-year-old author of "The Feminine Mystique," who had arrived by golf cart. But Friedan was soon eclipsed by news from the street. "Hillary is sitting in a car around the corner," said an organizer, puffing slightly. As if on cue, a recording of Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" blared from the speakers, bringing a tear to the eye of anyone who ever entertained the notion that Bill Clinton was really going to change the world. The teenage radical cheerleaders performing across from the press tent looked unmoved by the tune.
Soon Sen. Clinton was on the stage, drawing a booming cheer from the crowd. "Twelve years ago we had a march," began Clinton. "And we elected a pro-choice president. This year we have to do the very same thing." The crowd shouted, "Hill-a-ry! Hill-a-ry!"
Susan Sarandon, in an eye-popping multicolored striped jacket, was getting pushed and pulled in and out of the VIP area, as organizers tried to figure out how to get everyone in line to march. "This is happening today because we're threatened for the first time in 12 years," said Sarandon, as an eager volunteer placed a NARAL sign in her hand. Sarandon's 19-year-old daughter was not with her, but the actress said that she thinks the women's movement already resounds in teenage heads. "Not only is this my daughter's first opportunity to vote, but she's also at an age where her reproductive freedoms are most important to her," she said. "So maybe Social Security issues don't speak to her. But the right to safe healthcare for herself and all the world is something to pay attention to." Sarandon was bumped slightly from behind by a throng of security people ushering former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright into the VIP area.
Near the street, Elaine Lafferty was visiting with Lassie, the Ms. magazine Chihuahua, as a passerby said into a cellphone: "I am looking at Port-o-Sans, some chick playing a guitar, and Madeleine Albright." Cybill Shepherd paced behind the stage, clutching her 16-year-old daughter Ariel's hand with one hand, and a heavily annotated speech in the other, mouthing the words to herself. It was tough to hear Shepherd's speech from behind the stage, but it sounded like the first few sentences, which drew a huge response from the crowd, involved the word "pecker-heads."
While Shepherd was speaking, organizers corralled the "special guests" into marching formation. "I think the celebrities should be in front," said businessman Ted Turner, as Tyne Daly, Sharon Gless, Ashley Judd, Kathleen Turner, Frances Fisher, "Thelma & Louise" screenwriter Callie Khouri, Amy Brenneman and Camryn Manheim were pushed into a rough front line. Lorraine Cole, the leader of the Black Women's Health Initiative, pointed out, "This is historic because it's the first march in which organizations for women of color are official planners." Over at the staging area, '60s folk singer Holly Near was playing.
The celebrity front line lurched forward. Ashley Judd, in a T-shirt reading "This Is What a Feminist Looks Like," began to bellow, "We won't -- go back! We will -- fight back!" At Constitution Avenue and 15th Street, the group was forced to mate with a rogue collection of celebrity speakers who had gotten a late start: Shepherd, former "Saturday Night Live" star Ana Gasteyer, and former "Wonder Woman" Lynda Carter, whose presence, along with that of Gless, Daly and "One Day at a Time" star Bonnie Franklin, ensured that the march provided a nearly complete set of prime-time stars. From 1980.
As organizers, led by legendary march-coordinator Alice Cohan, barked orders like "Step back! No! Forward! Move it out! Come in!" Steinem stood serene, holding up the middle of the purple March for Women's Lives banner. After an over-enthusiastic handshake of my own, I asked her how this march was different from all other marches. "This is much more crucial," she said, glancing over her shoulder at the forming line, "and much bigger and much more diverse." She was still saying something -- about the Bush administration's commonalities with the Vatican and extreme Muslim governments -- when I was jostled backward by a wave of unsteady celebrities, still trying to merge. "We don't have room to move back!" Judd explained to the coordinators, earning the gratitude of the squashed marchers behind her.
