When I first heard that a protest was planned for the day after President Trump's inauguration, I worried. To me he seems like the kind of person who, when pushed, pushes back harder. I wondered if a big protest might harden the positions he proclaimed.

I also worried that a protest could further divide an already fractured country.

Then, organizers named it a march. While I am sure some saw it as a protest, this did change the event.

In the 60's, the March on Washington for Freedom and Jobs was a milestone in the civil rights movement. Words spoken that day still ring in our consciousness. That history added resonance to this event, and reminded all of the deepest positive values held by our neighbour to the south.

People travelled to Washington from all over. An old Montreal friend took a bus with a group. They each knitted pink hats, not for themselves, but to give to another. A small action, but for me it helped see the march as a communal action.

We watched the march spread. Events happened in many cities across the US and around the world. A woman who I know a little was not able to be at the march in her North Carolina city, so a few days before she walked the route, by herself. She helped me see that people know this is a pilgrimage, a journey.

The signs. Wonderful, thoughtful messages. One I loved was carried by a man in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Roughly translated it read: I am half naked and surrounded by people of the opposite sex. I am not afraid. I want the same for "ellas", the women around him. Given the machismo of that country, his was a strong statement and a reminder that changes for women make life more balanced for men too.

The week after the marches, President Trump signed executive orders that put into motion many of the discriminating, silencing, America-centric policies he promised. Like a school yard bully, when pushed he pushed back. Was the energy wasted?

I don't think so. As soon as the ban on immigration from seven predominantly Muslim countries was announced, civil rights lawyers challenged the details and a judge rolled back part of the order. Across the U.S., people gathered at airports to stop the deportation of people with legal visas.

Is the nation fractured? Yes, and so are we. The first act of terrorism in response to all the marches and protests took place in Quebec City, our country. Since Sunday night, vigils took place here to say that our country is committed to respect, accomodation, openness, welcome. Acts of solidarity with the Muslim community can support people who feel vulnerable right now. These actions can strengthen the ties in each of our communities. And they are essential, because otherwise, the movement toward isolation and discrimination embedded in the presidential orders will grow.

The marches on January 21st did highlight the divisions in opinion. But that divergence needs to be seen. Many people approve of President Trump's actions. During the election, many people heard his promises with hope, and rejoiced when he moved to make them policy. It is important to open up the conversation with those who agree with him. It doesn't help to just run over opposition with a steam-roller. Real differences need to be identified and addressed. There needs to be a conversation where the nature of equity and respect, justice and peace is discussed, described, spoken about so that people have the opportunity to change.

Engaging in conversation does not mean giving up the idea of justice and equity. The line can still be drawn strongly and publicly. When racism and religious discrimination become law, these policies need to be challenged. When someone draws a line and says, people on this side are us, and the rest are others, the line needs to be identified, named, and challenged.

One of the problems with the policies implemented since January 20th is that it seems as if some lives matter more than others. All lives matter. We need to notice when laws imply some do not. We need to show that black lives matter. Aboriginal lives matter. Muslim lives matter. And we need to point out every day in the community we are in when actions don't treat these people with respect and compassion.

Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister, and writer living near Walters Falls.