On Saturday, January 21, 2017, I was one of the estimated 2.6 million people who participated in the Women’s March in the world. The Women’s March was a campaign that first started with Teresa Shook, a grandmother from Hawaii who created a Facebook event page for a march on Washington after Trump’s inauguration. Bob Bland, Tamika Mallory, Carmen Perez and Linda Bob Bland, Tamika Mallory, Carmen Perez and Linda Sarsour then became the heads of the campaign, organizing the event that resulted in a global phenomenon.

On the morning of the Women’s March in San Diego, the Facebook group for the event showed that at least 21,000 attendees were scheduled to show up. My roommate and I left our apartment to get on the trolley to make it to the event at the designated time, shoving ourselves into a jam-packed trolley car to our downtown destination. While standing in the squished car for 30 minutes, we had the opportunity to talk to a wide variety of people who were also heading to the march, and also participated in a minute of silence at 10 a.m.

Upon arriving at our stop, we relied on the knowledge of the masses to lead us to where we needed to be. We made our way to the San Diego Civic Center Plaza, where the march began and walked the 1-mile journey through the streets of downtown San Diego to reach the end at the San Diego County Administration Center. Along the way, we participated in several chants, laughed and cheered at several of the amazing signs we witnessed and walked in solidarity with the movement.

The march was a long event. It rained for the first 30 minutes, and, being unprepared for the weather, we were soaked as we ducked under people holding large umbrellas for safety. The grass in front of the Administration Center was then soggy with the rain, and we ruined our shoes trying to wade through the slippery mud. It was also extremely crowded; instead of the known 21,000 attendees, around 40,000 people had shown their faces. The claustrophobia was hard to fight off at times, and we had to constantly push our way through crowds to get where we wanted to go.

And yet, I would not have wanted to spend my Saturday morning in any other way. The feeling of solidarity that came with being in the crowd was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. For once, I didn’t have to be prepared to argue. I didn’t have to explain to anybody why I was marching. Everybody knew and everybody understood. It was an unspoken bond between all of us; we knew what we were all going through, and we were all supporting each other in that moment in time.

On November 9, the day after Donald Trump was elected president, I was upset because I wasn’t able to attend the march in downtown San Diego to protest. Now, I realized that the Women’s March was a much better demonstration to be a part of. Yes, both marches were protesting Trump. But the Women’s March was a sign of hope, not anger, in the face of fear. The Women’s March was a message to President Trump. It was a message that he can be the 45^th president of the United States, but he will have to earn the title of being our president. It was a message that he, and everybody who voted for him and his hateful rhetoric, will have us to answer to in the face of injustice.

It was also a message to everybody in the country, and the world, who feels threatened by his presidency. It was a message that strangers can become friends and allies and that we are, in the words of Hillary Clinton, “stronger together.”

If Saturday was any indication, President Trump has a long four years ahead of him. I don’t know what will happen, but I do know that I, along with the rest of the world, will be watching.