On November 8, Vanessa Williams was, like a lot of women, ecstatic to be able to cast her vote for president for a woman at the top of a major political party ticket for the first time in hisory. Her four-year-old daughter, Cora, accompanied her to the polls. “For a woman to be running for president meant a lot to me,” Williams says. “I wanted my daughter to witness that history.” And, like a lot of women, she was crushed when the Electoral College votes didn't add up in Hillary Clinton's favor. But instead of stewing on the defeat of her candidate of choice, Williams decided to channel her disappointment into a new push for change, and FIERCE: Lehigh Valley was born.
FIERCE, which stands for Feminists Improving Equal Rights in Communities Everywhere, is a spinoff, of sorts, of Pantsuit Nation, an online community that rallied millions of Hillary Clinton supporters nationwide during her presidential campaign—it takes its name from her go-to on-the-job outfit. Clinton gave an emotional shout-out to the group during her concession speech when acknowledging Donald Trump's victory. After branching out on its own, FIERCE: Lehigh Valley quickly swelled from a few hundred members around Election Day, to some 3,500 members and growing in the months that followed. “It began as a place to commiserate and talk about the election. But now it's taken on a life of its own,” Williams says.
Like many modern organizations, FIERCE stays connected to its membership base via the internet, primarily through a Facebook page, although there is one in-person meeting held every month for anyone who wants to attend. Despite its obvious affinity for the Democratic Clinton, Williams says the group is non-partisan. “We're regular people who are concerned about what's going on in the country,” she explains. And, while the majority of its members are women, FIERCE: Lehigh Valley does have a male contingent. Williams estimates it's a 70-30 ratio, but regardless of how the exact numbers break down, female empowerment remains a top priority for the entire FIERCE faction. “It's been a female-focused kind of awakening,” she says. “But men are really claiming it as well. To me, the word ‘feminist' is not a dirty word. A feminist is nothing more than someone who wants equal rights for both sexes.”
Williams believes the feminist movement that took root in the United States in the 1960s and ‘70s lost some steam in the ‘80s. “People took it for granted that things would always be moving toward a more progressive and female-friendly way. There wasn't a passing of the baton from my parents' generation to my generation,” she says. While Williams, a lifelong Lehigh Valley resident, says she never considered herself a community activist, the election was the tipping point. She believes keeping women's issues on the forefront in the minds of local leaders has taken on a greater urgency as of late. “As a woman, I feel very nervous and threatened by the rhetoric coming out of politicians' mouths,” she says. And as a mother, she's concerned about the legacy that will be handed to her daughter. “I want to make sure my daughter's rights are protected. I want her to know what it's like to stand up for what's right.”
And yet, as a former intern for a Pennsylvania state representative, she's also aware of the bureaucracy that can clog the wheels of change on the state and federal levels of government. So, while FIERCE: Lehigh Valley does encourage its members to reach out to their elected officials about whatever issues they deem important, the group has many more weapons in its arsenal; it's a “walk the walk” kind of approach. Members held their first public event just days after the election: an anti-hate rally in Bethlehem. In January, the group organized what was deemed a solidarity and peace rally in Easton, following the issuance of an executive order from the White House that sought to limit immigration from a handful of Muslim-majority nations. “It was an opportunity for people to assemble peacefully,” Williams says. That same month, members joined in a rally for women's rights in Bethlehem that coincided with the national march in Washington D.C. All of the events, Williams says, have been a crash course in perspective: “It's important to get out of your bubble and understand that someone's experience is different than yours.” The group employs quieter modes of activism as well. Random acts of kindness are a staple of day-to-day activities. During one recent campaign, members wrote positive messages of encouragement and empowerment in chalk across the Lehigh Valley. Charitable giving is another tenet of FIERCE; the group usually picks one beneficiary or cause a month. Williams says members recently packed a moving truck full of domestic goods to donate to Valley Youth House; another drive collected baby products for the same facility. The YWCA, Sixth Street Alliance and Center for Humanistic Change have also been on the receiving end of the group's generosity. “Building these relationships, these bridges is what makes us strong,” says Williams. “Getting out and helping people is one way to steady the ship.” In addition, FIERCE practices what Williams calls “craftivism”—members employ their creative skills like painting, knitting and gardening to benefit local agencies. “It keeps you motivated to know you're making a change right in your community,” Williams says.
And yet, while the rallies, donations and drives make up the public profile of FIERCE, perhaps its greatest gift to its members is something intangible. “What's unique about our group? The support,” Williams says. “We rally around people and say everyone is welcome in our community.” All ages, races and religions are embraced by FIERCE. “It's a safe place where people can discuss things and not worry about any pushback because of the color of the skin or who they love.”
Williams says some members have reported being the victims of discrimination and hurtful, unsolicited comments. In fact, Williams herself was the target of a somewhat ironic theft. She once had a sign in her yard that read, “No Matter Where You're From, We're Glad You're Our Neighbor.” The same slogan was printed in several different languages; a positive, even innocuous message, Williams thought. Who could object? Apparently, someone did; the sign was stolen. It's a minor injustice, Williams knows. She's not losing any sleep over it. But, perhaps it's telling of the work still yet to be done here and across the country, as the nation struggles to redefine itself in the wake of the polarizing and contentious battle for the White House. Williams says FIERCE may have to take a long, hard look in the mirror as well, as the group contemplates how to best keep up with the interests and aspirations of its ever-growing membership. Says Williams, “I'm trying to straddle that line and meet everyone's needs.” While some members prioritize community service, others are more interested in jumping into the political arena. Williams says, some day, splitting up FIERCE into subsets is a possibility. But for now, she says, people are plugged into the larger mission, and that's what's important, because whatever the future holds for the group, its way of looking at the world—warts and all—will remain the same. “We're not about being ‘anti,'” Williams says. “The only thing we are anti is anti-hate.”
