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Women's March on Washington: A Reflection

The first act of unsolicited kindness I experienced on my long trip to Washington, D.C for the Women's March on Washington came to me on Saturday around five in the morning, nearly three hours away from our final destination. I woke on the charter bus with an extreme bout of motion sickness, with the inevitable act of vomiting in my very near future. As I tripped over bags to make my way to the head of the bus before getting sick on anything other than a trash can, bus leaders realized what was wrong and got me where I needed to be just in time. As I sat with my head against the steps of the bus entryway, trash can between my legs and body moving back and forth with the swaying terrain that initially caused my sickness, I was met with magnanimous comfort. Water, medicine, mints, ginger candies, and more were passed up to me from every rider who was awake. I was met with warm looks of understanding and words of advice as I made my way back to my seat, my pockets now filled with Dramamine and ginger flavored hard candies for later. Women were already looking out for the safety of those they had never met, and we were only in Pennsylvania.

Upon arriving in D.C, the supportive energy from other marchers was expanded times a million; my eyes were overwhelmed by the sight of citizens from across the country connecting for one sole purpose. My heart grew each time I saw an act of kindness, and by the end of the day, it was nearly to the point of exploding. It is impossible to describe how it felt to be swimming in a pool of female empowerment and support, but I will try my best. Have you ever received help or support from an unlikely source? Have you ever experienced a small token of genuine benevolence, or felt empowered by the words or doings of another? Imagine that feeling multiplied by one million. The voices of those attending the Women's March on Washington were heard throughout the entire city, the presence was remarkable, and the energy astoundingly ardent.

It was only until Sunday afternoon, when I woke up from a lengthy five-hour nap, that it all hit. My eyes, still tired from days of uneasy sleeping, shed tears of realization and appreciation for my sisters, and everything we worked for in order to make a difference. Sometimes it takes a civilized march of over one million to come to finally understand the lengths that women will go to in order to help one another.


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