“Every woman I have ever loved has left her print on me, where I loved some invaluable piece of myself apart from me—so different that I had to stretch and grow in order to recognize her.” – Audre Lorde
I could feel the spirit of the march as soon as I stepped onto the metro. Each car was filled from door to door with people from drastically different backgrounds who were all ready to march. It turns out that being smashed together in a metro car with barely enough breathing room causes people to get acquainted quickly. A few stops into the metro ride our whole section broke out into song, a song that a woman had written specifically for this momentous event. In a simple echo fashion, the woman sang out each verse, and in return, received a sea of voices singing back to her. That is a moment that I will never forget. There is something shockingly beautiful about being surrounded by half a million women who all decided that it was necessary to stand up for their beliefs. Each woman (and man) had their own reason for marching, and they chose to show up for one another.
There were about a hundred different reasons why I chose to travel on January 21st from Ohio to Washington D.C to participate in the women’s march. I chose to march for my sisters, for my friends, for my mentors, and for the young girls who will inherit our choices long after we’re gone. I marched for the women that could not march but wanted to. I carried with me every woman that holds a place in my heart and I walked in peaceful protest for each and every one of them.
I did not march because I thought that it would change the outcome of the election or because I thought that it would immediately change certain policies. I chose to march because I felt the need to make it clear that the marginalized groups in this country will not allow their rights to be taken away. This fight is an intersectional one, a fight to unite all marginalized groups, and it requires that we all stand up for one another, despite, and in celebration of, our differences.
There was a moment when I started to march beside my sister, after the rally, signs in hand, that we became completely overwhelmed by the strong connection we felt to total strangers. We began to move down the streets of D.C. as a speaker yelled over the jumbotron “Are you ready to start this March?” I have never heard so many people cheer in unison, but it was then that I knew I was a part of something special, something inspirational, something filled with acceptance, it was not bitter. Each woman used the fear or anger they were feeling and turned it into action. We were a crowd determined. In that determination, I saw something beautiful. I saw connections made and bonds strengthened in order to peacefully affect change. We held our signs, and we marched.
