I thought that there was nothing we could do after Trump’s victory. Even though I am not an American citizen, my heart, along with many others across the country, broke. I thought that all we could do was wait and see what happens next.

For a really long time, I did not understand the purpose of the women’s march going on all around the world. Before the event took place, the idea of a women’s march seemed more like a protest, and since my family warned me to stay off the streets on the days immediately after the election and the days leading up to the inauguration, I chose not to go. I guess they, as all parents do, feared for my safety; their fears are justified.

I did not take on the streets of Boston on the day after the inauguration. Only after the event did I realize the true meaning of the women’s march – to stand for the protection of our human rights, our safety, our health and the people we love. These marches provide a safe space for the minorities and those with marginalized identies. They give hope for love, acceptance and a peaceful coexistence. And most importantly, they empower all “nasty women” to put up a good fight.

I like to think that I am a feminist; the word “feminist” is defined as a person who advocates for women’s rights on the grounds of social, political and economic equality to men. I believe that women should have fundamental human rights, I believe in gender equality and I believe in smashing the patriarchy.

But I am a bad feminist. I have made ignorant comments in the past. I do not always speak up when I see injustices. I have been unaware of important issues surrounding my community because of my privilege. And most importantly – I didn’t use my privilege to fight for equality.

I apologize for being a bad feminist, though I am learning. I am still trying to figure out what feminism means to me and trying to find my voice. But as Roxane Gay says, “I would rather be a bad feminist than no feminist at all”.