My son and I made the choice to attend the Women’s March in Washington, D.C, and all the protests surrounding the inauguration of Trump. We couldn’t sit in silence and allow Trump to take office, without any resistance. The Women’s March was our final and largest protest we planned to attend, on this trip.
After the rally, my son and I decided to head back to the hotel, for our first meal for the day. It took a lot of time and patience to find an opening from the tightly-packed crowd. By the time we made it from the National Mall to our Pennsylvania Avenue hotel entrance, a massive group of protesters, left to their own devices, converged in front of our hotel, on their way to the White.
After a very disappointing and over-priced lunch, I decided to sit in the hotel lobby and enjoy one of my most favorite things, people watching. I sat in a very large and inviting leather chair, perfectly angled to catch most of the activity in the lobby. After a few minutes, my exhaustion caught up to me and I started to doze off. I gave up on the people watching (it was more like them watching me) and decided to return to my room, for a quick nap. As I approached the elevators, a sensed a little commotion. There was a small group of enthusiastic, middle-age white women taking photos and someone happily posing in front of them. It took a moment for me to zoom in on their subject, Kellyanne Conway. This completely caught me off guard. I was tired, my phone wasn’t charged and the settings on my DSLR camera were programmed for outdoors. Damn. Kellyanne continued to smile and pose for the seemingly politically supportive crowd. I aimed my camera at the gathering and pressed down on the shutter release button. The sound of the slow shutter confirmed that my settings were all wrong. I didn’t get the shot. Kellyanne turned her head toward me and immediately headed toward the elevator. Before she stepped in, an older gentleman walked up to her with his iPhone. She turned and smiled allowing him to get a good photo. This interaction allowed me a second to try to adjust my camera settings, in order to get a decent picture. When I shot the photo, Kellyanne yelled me, “Secret Service could take your camera away.” I looked around for the men in black suits, dark sunglasses and ear pieces, but the only other person around was her female companion. Feeling very confused, the only response I could muster up was, “Really?”
Kellyanne walked up to me and instructed me to “Be nice.” Her tone was that of a kindergarten teacher negotiating with a problem child, as he was about to cause a ruckus. “You’re going to be nice, right?” she said. After the third “Be nice,” I asked her, “What made you think I wasn’t nice?” She had no response. And then I added, “I’m feeling attacked by you right now.” Kellyanne quickly switched her attitude. Now she’s playing nice, really nice. She asked me to take a photo with her. I didn’t asked to be photographed with you and I’m not a fan. Okay, this could buy me a little more time to gather my thoughts. I handed her friend my camera. I felt like a zombie. I just stood there. I couldn’t smile, pose or even open my eyes. I couldn’t touch her. It felt wrong. The look on my face, in the photo, tells it all. I wanted to ask her some questions, but I couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t put her on the defensive. “Did you go to the march today,” I asked her. Yeah, that’s pretty innocuous. She’s a career woman. She has daughters, right? She started to answer the question. I heard her say something about the march and her being in D.C, but she never put the two together. In true Kellyanne form, she couldn’t even answer a simple question. Can you even acknowledge that hundreds of thousands of protesters are literally steps away from this hotel? Her assistant returned my camera. Kellyanne talked about her daughter and how she bought her the same type of camera. Her elevator door opened. She politely said goodbye and exited the lobby.
After she left, I scolded myself for being so unprepared for this encounter. I missed the opportunity to voice my disapproval of her distortion and denial of the facts. But on second thought, I’m glad I didn’t say much to her, because it allowed me to do what I do best, read her. That brief encounter allowed me to see the real Kellyanne.
When those middle-aged people surrounded her at the elevator, Kellyanne was in her glory. Those photo takers gave her nothing but praise and adulation. They didn’t see her. When I showed up, she became defensive. She scream at me. She labeled me as intrusive, and “not nice” or ANGRY. Kellyanne tried that old “angry Black woman” trick. Don’t try to stick that angry label on me, sister! This is the same brand that society forced on many of my Black sisters. This label gives white culture an excuse to dismiss us and devalue our experiences. Fear, or the reaction to this fear, is often used as a defense against this false accusation. Kellyanne’s reaction to me was, ‘How dare you,’ and ‘You are not welcome.’ She even threatened to solicit the help of the Secret Service to protect her, and to put me in my place. Why are you so afraid of me, Kellyanne? Hey Kellyanne, all I did was show and do what everyone else was doing, taking a photo. You treated me like I had no right to be there. Wait, wait. Am I not a guest at this hotel?
“Secret service could take your camera away.”
Kellyanne didn’t get the angry woman she tried to conjure up. When she didn’t get the scary, angry women reaction she wanted, she had to regroup. She quickly switched from being the victim to sweet southern belle. Interesting. She’s really reaching. I quietly observed her. She didn’t know how to handle me. Why was she so nervous?
I watched Kellyanne Conway on all the major networks, telling obvious lies and spewing venomous accusations. My initial take on her was, she didn’t believed her own lies. I thought she was a woman just trying to keep a job. But unlike most women, she had a price, and the Trump team met that price. Watching her interviews, I felt she traded in her integrity for money and power, something men do all the time. But after meeting her, I’m not so sure that’s all of it. I can usually get a good read on people. What I saw in Kellyanne was fear and a sense of inadequacy. Is that what’s really driving you, Kellyanne?
Because of our gender, most of us women grew up in situations where our hopes, dreams, talents and potential were questioned, suppressed or denied. Many of us were not given the same encouragement and opportunities as our male counterparts. Today, woman are still earning seventy-nine cents to every dollar of a man. Those were some of the reasons why we had to march that day. Our new president hasn’t held back from demonstrating his devalue of women. Who’s that top adviser whispering in his ear and in full defense of his distorted views? Oh, it’s Kellyanne Conway. Will taking credit for building a one-man wrecking machine, which will negatively impact the world, give her the ultimate sense of accomplishment she needs, or will that be enough? Fear and a sense of inadequacy is what I read from her. Most people gravitate to what is familiar to them. What attracts Kellyanne to this racist, narcissistic, bombastic, misogynistic bully? Hmmm. If I ever get to meet her again, I will be better prepared. I will gently (don’t want to scare her) ask her, “Growing up in New Jersey, has anyone ever told you that you wouldn’t accomplish anything?”, “Has anyone ever denied you because of your gender?”, “Do you think women should get equal pay for the same work?”, “What do you have to prove to the world?”, and again, “Hey Kellyanne, did you march in support of women?
Yes, I hope to meet her again.
Yvette Travels 
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