I WASN’T there and now I regret it. I didn’t make it to the women’s march in Edinburgh on Saturday, being tied up with things that seemed important at the time. But now I wish I had put it all aside and got out there with the rest. It was so uplifting to see millions of women, girls, men and boys the world over giving two metaphorical fingers to Donald Trump.

They did it so stylishly. “We shall overcomb,” read one homemade banner in Edinburgh. “Nasty girls grab back bigly,” said another, parodying a Trumpism. “Now you’ve p***ed off granny,” read another. Behind the humour was anger and an iron resolve not to let this aberration of a president undermine dearly held values.

Now that the placards are in the recycling box, the challenge is clear: how to turn the exhilaration of mass protest – what has been called a “primal scream” of defiance – into effective advocacy in pubs, workplaces, homes and schools. How do you turn the camaraderie of the thousands into solitary activism? How do you harness the motivations of the protesters, with concerns as diverse as climate change and refugees, and turn it into focused change-making?

And how on earth do you distil into simple messages such diverse motivations? It is made trickier by the divisions that already exist within what can loosely be termed the women’s movement, divisions which suggest that traditional old school feminist mantras, while important, are not in themselves enough to encapsulate what the protesters are striving for.

Some young women shy away from the term feminism and associate it (rather unfairly) with po-faced androgynous women of an older generation. Meanwhile, the equal pay preoccupations of older women can seem less relevant to young women, given that pay inequalities tend to kick in most markedly after women start to have children, which now happens on average at age 30; ditto childcare.

Older women, meanwhile, lack experience of the alarming rates of self-harm and depression among their younger friends, daughters and grand-daughters, since the world of their youth was not so sexualised or so pressured financially and academically (for some), and their private lives were not laid bare on social media.

Then there is the divide between specific political goals and the drive for broader social change. A young woman whose nascent feminism arises from anger at her ex-boyfriend for sharing a topless photo of her on Facebook is unlikely to rush to the barricades because of an earnest tome about all-women shortlists. This emergent movement must encompass women with these diverse motivations. It must also take into account analysis of what went wrong with appeals to women during the presidential election.

Though a majority of women overall voted for Hillary Clinton, 53 per cent of white women voted for the misogynist candidate, his support being particularly strong among the working class. While established feminists see those voters as gender traitors, and many women of colour have expressed alarm at their fellow females voting for a man they regard as racist, journalist Susan Chira in the New York Times discusses the possibility that some, at least, may have been reacting against what they regard as a condescending middle-class liberal elite, the women’s movement long having been perceived as the preserve of liberals only. They were more moved by Mr Trump’s promises of bringing back jobs to their sons and daughters than by the traditional appeals Mrs Clinton made on so-called women’s issues and her promise as a privileged woman to break the ultimate glass ceiling.

Abortion was another dividing line. Many feminists would argue forcefully and unrepentantly that anyone who opposes abortion rights loses the right to call themselves a feminist. Others see abortion as an issue of conscience embodying such deep philosophical questions that it cannot be reduced to a feminist issue alone.

Liberals and some conservative women could perhaps come together on other matters, such as equal pay, political representation and the right of women not to be groped by megalomaniac billionaires, but are hopelessly divided on abortion.

Collaboration between the two sides of that debate is perhaps impossible. But in general, defining the issues too narrowly will always limit the scope of a broad-brush movement. In the wake of the weekend marches, the challenge is to keep everyone on side and unite the crowds with a common agenda.

How should that message be defined in simple, powerful terms? Respect, dignity and human rights. What brings these women and men of all classes, creeds and colours together is a sense of their dignity; cold disgust at the type of leering misogyny and discrimination epitomised by Mr Trump; and a sense that there is no damn way we’re letting this grotesque parody of a statesman and his ilk make the world a less free, more dangerous, limiting, oppressive place for our daughters, nieces and granddaughters (and indeed sons and grandsons) than for us.

This isn’t just about the sick-making recording of him discussing how he feels free to grab women by the genitals; it isn’t just about the parade of women who say he sexually harassed or assaulted them; it isn’t just his former ownership of a beauty pageant. It is also about how all of this could put progress into reverse. It is about the dearth of women and non-white appointees in Mr Trump’s Cabinet and their record of hostility to many equality issues. It’s about setting a tone.

It is clear that the Women’s Marches on Washington and London are trying to encompass all those who oppose Mr Trump, in their very diverse ways. The organisers have published broad “guiding principles” that discuss not just gender justice but also racial, social and environmental justice, and LGBTI rights. They describe themselves as “leader-full” and “decentralised”.

While this is necessary, it also creates a thicket of complex issues and potentially competing priorities in which supporters could get bogged down. Stressing a simple unifying theme of respect, dignity and human rights would not risk alienating anyone.

It is clear from the marchers’ first proposed campaign action for supporters – a postcard to Theresa May, urging her to reaffirm to Mr Trump the UK’s commitment to human rights – that this point is well understood. We should all heed the call. For most of known history, females have had lesser status than men. Huge advances have been made in a century but we are kidding ourselves if we think that, following the sexual revolution and 50 years’ progressive change since, we have achieved equality. We have not.

Sexists like Mr Trump have always derided and resented women. They seem to be gaining the upper hand but if this broad sweep of protesters, joined by the rest of us who share their concerns, can work together to defend civilised values, the march of human rights will go on – though we may need several pairs of shoes.