On January 20, I’m sure as many of you know, there was the worldwide phenomenon: the Women’s March. As a student of Georgetown, I was lucky enough to be able to walk to the march in DC. It was the largest-single day demonstration in U.S. history. There were more people in attendance than the combined entirety of the U.S. military.
I woke up at 8:30 brimming with excitement after sleeping over in my best friend Nina Cheng’s room, dressed for cold, rainy weather, grabbed two granola bars, and then we made our way to the location of the march.
While walking there, we passed some “Make America Great Again” baseball caps, but these were drowned out in a sea of pink hats. People of all ages were spilling into the streets, and we slowly merged into one giant living and breathing pink mass. We surged around monuments, swept through streets, and finally joined hundreds of thousands of others who were grouped around monitors, sitting in trees, standing on fences, lined on stairs.
The speakers who were at the rally raised the spirits of everyone in attendance. Some speakers were more serious, such as Cecile Richards, President of Planned Parenthood. Some conveyed their message through comedy, like Michael Moor, filmmaker. All had the same message “This is not the end. We will not be defeated.”
The hours ticked by, but even after six hours, there were still millions of people participating in the rally. Then, the march started and numbers soared.
Many people came for the march who had not listened to the rally. There were so many people that the original planned path was unfeasible. It was such a welcoming and accepting community. Compliments were given without any hesitation. I ran into so many classmates and friends whom I greeted with smiles and hugs.
It was a moment of history, one that will be in textbooks, and I was honored to participate.