It's been hard figuring out how to say what I want to say about Slutwalk; it all keeps coming out in short sentences and lots of emotion. In short, I've never felt so vulnerable in a march, and I've never done one that meant more to me.
It was cold. A woman who looked off her head started yelling at us as soon as we started. There were almost more spectators than marchers, and they all had cameras and clicked away at us as if we weren't people anymore. But we began chanting, and the guy with the wheelie-bin stereo started playing music, and I stopped feeling so vulnerable and began to look back at the spectators and smile at the cameras. When we reached Aotea Square, I wished we were marching all the way up to K rd.
There were several speakers, including Louise Nicholas which was pretty exciting, but it was the last speaker who really got me. I'd like to write about this properly when I can properly get my head around it, but he was so sincere and just so right that I wished everyone could hear what he said.
I feel really lucky and proud to have been part of Slutwalk, and I couldn't be more grateful for and proud of my beloved sister and my Vincent for doing it too (part of the last speech was about how crucial the involvement of men is to its success). It's one thing to do what you think is right, but when you have the people you love best doing it with you (even unwillingly, like my excellent little niece), it makes all the difference.
PS Excellent niece questioning her uncle during the speeches
"What's R-A-P-E?" "Um, that's rape." "What's rape?" [Defers to her mother.]
"What's S-L-U-T?" "Oh man..."