On Feb. 28, I drove to Nashville, Tennessee and attended my first ever protest. It was a “Free Kesha” rally, and I stood with a group of about 30 men and women outside Sony Music, chanting and holding signs in support of the pop singer.
I had been so nervous telling people I was going to a rally in protest of Sony refusing to let Kesha out of her contract with producer Dr. Luke, who she claimed had abused and raped her. I knew people would inwardly roll their eyes and think, “Oh, no. Claire’s becoming a man-hating college feminist.” I was nervous telling my parents we would have to go to church separately so I could make it to Nashville in time for the rally.
I considered dropping out of the rally, staying home and reading about it later. But my best friend’s mother, after I told her at church where I was going, said, “Good for you! Good for you for standing for what you believe in!”
Her statement gave me the push I needed. I went to the rally, and it was one of the best choices I could have ever made.
I mainly took pictures and blended in with the crowd; the only thing remotely different about me was that I had a picture of Bruce McLarty’s face on a stick in my backpack. But others there had huge posters emblazoned with #FreeKesha, a couple girls were coated in glitter and one girl even brought her six-month-old Weimeraner. There was a goth couple there, and one guy who looked like a modern John Lennon, but despite all of our physical differences, we all banded together in support of Kesha.
If I had been Kesha and no one supported me, I would have been heartbroken. Had any of my sisters or friends or any other women in my life been in Kesha’s position and no one had supported them, I would have been infuriated. And to think I almost didn’t go to the rally just because I was embarrassed of what my peers would think of me.
The other women at the rally were fearless. While some local college-age boys made fun of our chanting, the goth girl snapped at them. The girl drenched in glitter waved her poster in the air proudly. Another who said she had been raped years ago yelled out “Shame on Sony!” while she marched down the street.
These women are the modern gladiators I want to be more like. Their “you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us” mentality is one I hope all women can adopt so that one day, we won’t have to worry about women being forced to work with their abusers. Maybe one day, there won’t be a need for protests in support of women. Maybe one day, all women will be free.
But until then, I will stand for their freedom.
