If you ever wanted to feel the pulse of the country on Inauguration Day, the Clara Barton rest stop off of I-95 might not be the first place that comes to mind. But as I stood in an intimidatingly long line waiting to use the rest room, I quickly glanced up to see Donald Trump signing some executive orders on an antiquated TV, minutes after he was sworn in as the 45th president of the United States. Now, I know there is a metaphor in that sentence somewhere, but I think we all get the gist of it. The whole thing just felt surreal. But this quick stop on my way to the Women’s March in Washington, D.C. set the tone for the rest of my weekend, particularly when a woman carrying her baby waiting to use the restroom blatantly said, “Can’t we just use the men’s room? There is absolutely no line and I’m sick of just standing here and waiting.” Others on line chimed in and said, “Go ahead, you have a baby! Go for it,” encouraging her to take care of her child and just use the men’s bathroom. The mother proudly marched into the men’s room with a couple of her family and friends who desperately had to go. While trivial, all the women in line had the mother’s back and supported her decision to fight the status quo of not using the men’s room. Little did I know that millions of women would have each other’s backs the following day in marches all across the world.
Like many individuals on November 8th, I felt gutted. Quite honestly, I did not understand how a man like Donald Trump could become leader of the free world, regardless of political party, after all of his vile and lewd comments unambiguously targeted at women became public knowledge. I felt hopeless and scared and nervous for the future of all aspects of women’s rights, and quite frankly, of my country. I wasn’t just being a sore loser and mad that the candidate I voted for did not win. I possessed a genuine fear because so much was, and still is, at stake. I feared for sexual assault victims and tried to understand how they might have felt after hearing Trump’s comments. I feared for the LGBTQ community. I feared for Muslims. I feared for African Americans. I feared for immigrants. I feared for the environment. I feared for all Americans.
My initial post-election reaction was to accept defeat and hope for the best. And sadly, my mindset slowly started to shift and doubt crept like a cancer and infiltrated my feelings of hope until I became dismissive. I didn’t want to read the news anymore or continue to do my research as an American citizen because it just tired me and gave me severe anxiety. Slowly, I started to feel like the minority. Trump became President. We voted for him. Was I missing something? Was the mentality I had just simply the wrong one? I was becoming complacent, and I was part of the problem. I snapped out of this complacency when Trump got voted “Person of the Year” and criticized it because it used to be “Man of the Year.” I snapped out of it when I remembered that sickening audio clip from Trump’s conversation with Billy Bush. I snapped out of it when Trump started picking his cabinet nominees that included those who ran a white supremacist website, were fired for being racist, did not believe in global warming, and had no idea how the education system in this country works. I snapped out of it when I remembered I had a voice and swiftly decided to attend the Women’s March in D.C.
To convey in words how historical, emotional, awe-inspiring, and empowering January 21st was would be impossible. It gave me immense hope and a deep gratitude to both men and women marching for my rights and equality, denouncing the hateful rhetoric of our president, and ensuring that we are all here, in unison, ready to peacefully fight for what is right. You could feel a real movement towards equality arise. People that never got involved politically or socially were out there thanks to the power of democracy and the fabric of our country. The streets were flooded with individuals carrying clever, cunning signs and donning pink hats. We broke out in song and marched side bye side singing “This Land Is Your Land” and “One Love.” It was poignant and real and beautiful and gave me hope. Hope I desperately needed. Together, we marched against the wage gap. We marched for sexual assault victims. We marched for paid maternity leave. We marched against men who for some reason still want to control our bodies and access to reproductive healthcare. We marched for Planned Parenthood. We marched against taxes for basic sanitary needs. We marched against objectification. We marched against rape culture. We marched for all women.
As I was standing on the National Mall in a sea of people, I saw that woman from the rest stop holding a sign and her baby in a sling. Out of millions of people, I saw her. It was a real full circle moment, and a moment I will never forget. And it sounds really corny, I know, but it’s the truth. Whether it’s taking a minor step like using the men’s room when you really need it or a major one like participating in a major march for women’s rights, taking a stand and acting up for what is right is worth it. She entered that restroom to take care of her daughter. And she marched in D.C. to ensure that her daughter is seen as equal.
Saturday is a day I will never forget. I want to thank ALL women, even those who do not identify as feminists, or criticized this march, or disagree with me politically, because without them, I would be nothing. I’ll continue to march for you. Some of us are privileged to think we have equality when thousands of women in the past have fought and died for your rights. Don’t you think we should return the favor?
