Women's March on Washington: A shout heard around the world

In my previous post, I wrote up some observations on the Women's March on Washington (WMW) and how the technology that allows us to produce and share multimedia adds dimensions to what what we actually do when marching and by marching. I stated that what remains with me most clearly from a week later is people's voices: people speaking and listening to each other in ways they hadn't before. 

In that post, I looked at people's voices from the point of view of the information that they convey. However, because of my interest in speech and speech technology, I also see people's voices purely and simply as an audio signal. This post contains some observations following on from the fact that each person's voice is actually a sound wave.

Newly arrived at the WMW, we stood in the midst of a sea of people, wondering if we were actually going to see the stage. As we oriented ourselves, an enormous sound moved towards us over the crowd. It started from a way off, and moved closer and closer like a wave from far out in the ocean. It was an unfamiliar sound.

As the wave passed over us, it became clear that shouting was creating the wave. When it reached us, we also shouted, and it moved on.

My backstory: My main reason for marching at WMW was for health care, or at least that's where I started. I found myself quickly leaning towards the position of the person holding the sign saying, "Too many issues to fit on one sign". I don't join mono-gender initiatives: gender issues affect everyone and we only get to equality if we get to equality together. We must move on equal footing towards equal footing. The WMW was not mono-gender. About 10-20% of the crowd were men, but my estimate might be wrong, since putting the people around me into gender categories was one of the last things on my mind that day.

After the shout wave had passed, it struck me: What I have just experienced was an acoustic event that has never before occurred on the surface of the planet. The shout wave was the sound of a woman-dominated group of hundreds of thousands of voices acting in coordination. No wonder that it had struck me as an unfamiliar sound.

I can think of times in the history of the world in which a group of men would have created a shout wave, or even a 50/50 gender group. I can imagine what that would sound like, or perhaps I have even heard it before. However, this woman-dominated sound was fully new. We have collaboratively invented, as a species, the ability to generate a never-before-heard acoustic event. There was not one wave that day, but many.

Later, I saw this acoustic event that I call a "women's shout wave" referred to in the newspaper as a "rolling roar".

If you know something about sound, you know that it has a physical reality. Sound is a mechanical wave caused by compression of the air: it can knock you off of your feet. The size of those waves is directly and necessarily related to the size of what initially starts pushing the air to create the waves. The smaller the physical source, the faster the waves and the higher the sound. Our voices are created by vibrations in our larynx (voice box). On average, women have a smaller voice box than men. A woman-dominated crowd will produce a higher pitched sound than a gender-balanced crowd or a man-dominated crowd. Throw in a few kids' voices (also small voice boxes) as with the WMW, and the resulting rolling roar is a powerful, yet sparkling, acoustic event that deserves to be compared to the sound of a band of angels, however you might choose to imagine that.

In moments of philosophy, we often discuss the question of a tree falling in a forest: if no one hears it then did it really make a sound? The wave of women's voices at the WMW produced an acoustic event of a fully different nature. If you think about it, you cannot even ask this question about the women's shout wave. It is produced if and only if a crowd dominated by women comes together in one place and acts in coordination: The existence of this sound and the fact that it is also heard are one and the same.

The wave of women's voices at the WMW truly produced a shout heard around the world. Reflecting a bit you realize that this new sound is not the only new signal that was produced at the march: shout waves happened at the march, but were not the essence of the march. The essence was a new social signal. What this signal is will reveal itself in what we do next: it may not be a mechanical wave, but I have no doubt in its power to move things in our social/political/physical world.

The discovery of the women's shout wave may or may not excite you as much as it excites me. But you don't have to share my enthusiasm of having participated in the acoustic history of humanity in order to agree: as long as we are able to come together and make this coordinated sound, we are headed in the right direction as a species.

Tamika Mallory said at the WMW, "When you go home remember how you felt": https://youtu.be/dDc9Ochrifw?t=3h38m36s Remembering the unique sound of the rolling roar has the ability to place us back again in the moment, in recalling what we have heard, we can recall what we felt.

But the rolling roar also reminds us of something very important about the movement: the decision to create the women's shout wave is the decision of every individual in the crowd at the moment the wave breaks over her. Every single time when it is time for you to contribute to the wave, you must check your alignment with the overall goals, and then you must shout your lungs out. You have a responsibility as an organizer to target a straight, true line, but also as a participant, an "organizee" as it were. Each person individually is responsible to periodically check that we still are on track towards the right goals, and after every check to reengage with full force.

That take a lot of energy, and a lot of strength. In the moments, when I wonder where will that strength come from, I think of this sign: "Do not be afraid".

Women's March on Washington: Across time and dimensions in space

It's been one week since the Women's March on Washington (WMW). I was curious to see what would still grip me most strongly now after one week. Filtering through so many topics, so many impressions, so much emotion, what remains with me most clearly is: people's voices.

People are speaking up, speaking out, and, for the first time that I can remember, speaking with unanimous confidence that speaking can and does indeed bring about change. The most obvious case is the power of every citizen to call their government representatives in order to communicate their opinion. But speaking also has the power to open people's minds to fundamentally different perspectives: speaking with each other can lead to the understanding that the world is a single, immense interconnected system. There is and can be no difference between standing up for ourselves and standing up for other people. This understanding builds confidence, lends authority to our individual voices, and allows us to comprehend our own potential at our cores: what we can make happen by all pulling in a common direction is more that we have previously dared to hope or imagine.

This blog post contains observations about the WMW seen through the lens of information, which is my field of research. Specifically, I focus on information as it is captured and shared in multimedia: audio, video, and images.

In Ch. 2 of their Multimedia Computing book, Friedland and Jain discuss communication-related inventions over the course of civilization. Their discussion makes the point is that the era we live in is an era of media recordings, digital media, and the Internet. These inventions provide us with three invariances, which offer historically unique opportunities for communication: invariance of time, invariance of space, and invariance of addressee.

"Invariance" in this case refers to the stability of communication—if a message is invariant, it is not subject to loss or decay. Specifically, these three invariances mean that a message communicated in the past is also available in the future, that a message presented at one place, can be also presented at another, and that a message communicated to one person can be communicated to anyone.

How do these invariances make marching in today's times different than ever before? When our grandparents' generation made signs and took to the street, their message would only reach the people who were present on that street and in that moment. Anything beyond that was dependent on newspaper and radio coverage.

In 2017, the WMW took place in full realization that the march was not limited to that moment, to that space, or to the specific people who were physically in Washington DC. Most of the intended addressees of the march were somewhere completely different. In the case of all three invariances, I observed behavior that reflected the consciousness of people of these information invariances and the need to use them.

Invariance of time: Signs as photo opportunities
Cameras, both conventional and on mobile phones, were everywhere at the WMW. I watched amazed as people took pictures of each holding their signs. Slowly, at the march, it dawned on me that my idea of not bringing a camera to a demonstration outdated. It became apparent to me that people made their signs with the intention of having other people take pictures of them. Some people who had particularly interesting or novel signs were standing at the side of the street. Apparently their purpose standing there was so that people would come up and chat and then pose with the sign for pictures.

A consciousness pervaded the march: a sign is not merely a physical object, but rather a message broadcasted outward without a predetermined limit. Your face on a picture next to a sign anchors it to you as a person in a way that comments on the Web fail to be anchored. The march came together around unity principles. Motivated by these principles, a "selfie" taken with a march sign becomes an "unselfie": an act of selflessness in support of rights and of people without the opportunity to stand up for their own rights.

Invariance of space: Everywhere at once
There was a feeling of connection at the WMW to people who would have liked to have been there, but who weren't able to make the trip to Washington DC. I saw at least one marcher who had listed the names of the people who supported her on her sign. While marching, I felt strongly connected to the people in our circle of family and friends who had stayed at home and watched the media coverage and/or attended other marches.

During the WMW, the mobile phone network clearly suffered overload. Through much of the duration of the march, it was not possible to access the Web via the mobile phone network, to call, or even to send or receive a text. For this reason, we realized that it was that the people who were not at the march were actually understanding what was going on more than the marchers could, although we were actually at the march. The feeling that being the the middle of the march was not necessarily the best way of getting an overall understanding of what was going on enhanced the impression that the march was not happening in a particular physical space, but in fact everywhere at once.

It was only later that evening that I came to fully understand that there had been marches of magnitude in so many places around the the US and the world. Today, it's a week later and I spent some time browsing march pictures on Flickr. March pictures are all simply march pictures, and whether they were taken at the WMW or at a sister march has since faded into the background.

Invariance of addressee: No one missed out on anything
My experience of the march was people, people, and more people. I know Washington DC well, but at times, I felt completely out of sight of anything familiar. During the time that the speakers were speaking we saw no stage: we just had faith that some where in the core of the masses the speakers were speaking on schedule. At one point, someone close to me in crowd said, "Madonna's here!" People seemed excited to hear that, but everyone had realized by then, that it was counterproductive to try to get to the stage.

There was a consciousness that no one was missing out on anything. Not being able to see any of the speakers was not a disappointment, we could all just shrug "Oh, well, I'll catch the speeches on YouTube later". (I spend some time doing that today.) Thinking about what it was like in the middle of the march: I've never experienced a moment, with such a clear sense of shared awareness that that moment would be lived and relived afterwards. For those with similar scifi habits, I'll say, it's the closest I've ever come to experience the feeling of travel across time and relative dimensions in space TARDIS.

Past, present, and future
The weeks leading down to the WMW were already filled with an appreciation of what past marchers had to teach us, and my thoughts frequently turned to the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. Awareness of the contributions of those in whose footsteps we follow is perhaps the most dramatic impact of information communicated across time (54 years ago), space (around the world), and audience (I was not even born then).

I never thought too much about 1963 as a child, but I also never thought too much about fire drills. When the alarm goes off, you calmly and peacefully leave the school. When things become unbearable, you calmly and peacefully go to march in Washington. These are the procedures and the practices that keep us—all of us—safe and keep our efforts to build a just society moving forward. Images, audio recordings, and videos hold the practice before our mind's eye: yes, it does happen, it has happened, and since it needs to happen, it will happen again.