When the news came out that there would be a march centered on women the day after Trump's inauguration, my mom and I knew we had to be there. Our plans morphed into attending with several female friends and family and spending the weekend outside of D.C. I was excited of course and felt powerful simply deciding that we were going to take a stand for what we believed in. Being someone who never shied away from sharing her opinion and someone who felt utterly powerless after the 2016 presidential election, this felt like the perfect action to take to start believing in my country and its political systems again.

On the drive from Connecticut to Washington D.C., nearly every car we passed had something about the women's march or feminism on the windows and most drivers were wearing pussy hats. When we stopped at rest stops, they were filled with women clearly going to D.C. as we were. Every woman I passed hugged me or smiled or asked if I would be attending the march. Experiencing the community of kindness that women create for each other was so comforting and to be supporting something that that many women were so passionate about making the future of America not so dark after all.

In order to get from our hotel to the actual site of the march, we had to take a train. When we got to the train station, the entire track, the inside of the station itself, and the front lawn were covered with women and a whole lot of pink. We waited for hours to finally get on a train and squeezed ourselves on just to be able to stand in between train cars. The estimates of how many women would march that day had been large, but from that moment on it was clear that all predictions were about to be exceeded.

As we left the train station in D.C. women were cheering and screaming immediately. Women were handing out signs on the street and there was a massive crowd of people as far as I could see. During the rest of the day I stood in front of the White House and Capitol Hill, I marched through the city surrounded by the women, I laughed, I cried, and I heard the most amazing stories from women around the country. I was with a friend of mine, we were both 16 at the time when two older women came up to us and asked if it was our first march. We told them it was and they said that they had gone to their first march for women's rights together in high school and hadn't stopped since.

The most amazing part was hearing the news reports of how many women attended and in how many cities on how many continents. The entire world stood up for the half of the human population that is slighted and made to feel lesser than. A friend who attended the march on Saturday sent me a sign of a poster that said "I'm a girl. What's your superpower?". I can truly say that the women I know are as close to superheroes as the world will get, and something like the Women's March is the only way to display the full power of women and their ability to persevere.