On Saturday morning I woke up to my alarm going off at 7:30 AM and the same fever I went to bed with the night before. I shut off my alarm and went back to sleep right next to my roommate (I'm a big cuddle-er).

I woke up again at 9:00 feeling worst than before and I was so ready to tell my friend I wasn't going to be able to come to the Women's March in Boston. But, I took a shower, chugged some DayQuil and bundled in layers despite a prediction of good weather as I headed to meet the group.

There's a backstory to me attending the march that I'll elaborate on now. I've never been to a march for rights of any sort, but it's sort of one of those things that you click "interested in" on Facebook and forget about until the day comes. This one was different because I was getting a constant reminder from the people around me. My supervisor from my job at the library was personally sewing hundreds of pink pussycat hats to send across the country. Another would show me pictures of the march she attended in the '70s and then again in the '90s and one from 2004. The fight was the same, but the diversity among the crowds definitely changed.

It was basically an obligation for me as a person who feels strongly about fundamental rights that people should have. Now we can continue with the actual march.

When I first registered for the march, there were about 40,000 people also registered. The morning of the actual event, nearly 105,000 people were registered but near 200,000 actually showed up. When your support is going up by increments of tens of thousands per day, you know your fight is universal.

The website advised using public transportation to head to Boston Common (basically Boston's version of Central Park--people of MA please don't kill me for saying that). However, after waiting nearly 40 minutes for a T, we figured we'd never find one that wasn't packed and chose to walk.

Honestly, the walk wasn't that bad, especially because of the many people we met along the way. My favorites were the old timers because their stories were so inspirational and passionate. I could see myself as them in the future and I couldn't be any prouder to say that.

By the time we got inside the actual Common, speakers were about to go up right after we did the Pledge of Allegiance. Let me just remind you that I am 4"9', so not even the teleprompters gave me any visuals from that height, but the view was so much more than the speakers. To my right was a Muslim woman, baby strapped to her chest and another grasping her arm. To my left was a beautiful interracial couple wearing "NASTY WOMAN" shirts. As far as I could see, there were pink pussycat hats everywhere and signs of all variations.

"Amazing Grace" was sung (almost everyone on the verge of tears) before Massachusetts Senator Elizabeth Warren came on to speak. The crowd went wild for literally every sentence, myself included. Like the Senator we all know, she encouraged us all to fight back against the systematic racism alongside with her, with each other.

Other speakers included volunteers from Planned Parenthood, activists for Indigenous peoples, poets and many, many more. The speakers went on for a while and towards the end, a large portion of the crowd was getting pretty antsy to march, which was expected.

Getting the march procession to actually begin was a struggle and a half because of the jam-packed nature of the scene. It was essentially traveling one inch per minute, but there were plenty of ways to occupy time.

Someone created two massive protest beach balls that crowd surfed us all. We were encouraged to mingle with the people next to us and get to know who we are fighting for and with. Again, my love for the older marchers just grew further at this point because of the extent of their tales. One woman had Polaroid pictures of the first march she participated in which looked similar to the current one. You can't not be warmed by the genuine aspect of her pride in them.

After the gloom of Friday's Inauguration, this is just the remedy my soul needed to heal. I couldn't tell if the chills I was getting were from my fever or the immense hope that surged through me. I was never prouder to be a part of something bigger than any one person. I am still so proud.