It had not been even a day that Trump was in office when what started as the Women’s March on Washington spread globally as an effort to protect women’s rights and other causes such as immigration, health care, LGBTQ+ rights, and racial rights. The march in Dallas was scheduled Jan. 21 at 10 a.m.

I was standing alongside my mom as we both saw the incoming crowds of people along with police going to the meet at Dallas City Hall. My stomach turned, because I was never good in crowded places. Being in the center of what felt like hundreds of thousands of people did not leave me in a good spot. Signs that read ‘Defending Values+Rights FOR ALL’ or ‘I am with Nasty’ were visible while my mom and I held a sign that read ‘I stand with Planned Parenthood.’ With the crowd getting bigger and my stomach still turning, my mom whispered “You’ll be fine when we start moving”.

The crowd began to move right when the clock struck 10 a.m. I held my mom’s hand for the first few minutes. I didn’t want to lose her in the big crowd. The march was two miles long. It started at City Hall and ended at the Communications Workers of America building. While we marched, we helped others who couldn’t walk and had signs. There were drivers who smiled as they honked at us with enthusiasm and support. I could only assume news cameras were filming and photographers were capturing the movement. While marching, we were told to stay on the sidewalk and follow all traffic laws since city roads weren’t closed and people still had to work. Halfway through the march protesters started breaking traffic laws and stopping drivers from getting where they needed to go. Police had to start directing traffic.

As we neared the end of the march, I felt more confident holding up our sign and going along with the chants “Women! United! Will never be divided!” and “No Justice! No Peace!”, then, a camera man interviewed my mom. During her interview, I could clearly see how passionate my mom was about the march and what it meant to her, although I had known all along.

Once we finally reached the end, I looked behind me to see how many women were still marching. There were several who had still not reached the end. Once again, I was in a crowd, but now I knew this march was not something for me to be scared of. The march was full of determination and happiness. Most of the time when I hear about marches or protests, they’re violent, I was frightened that this would be too, but it was not. It was peaceful. Now I understood how important this march was for my mom, myself, and others around the world. If I had to, I would march all over again to fight for the rights of everyone in America.