My right foot stepped into a sea of pink, enthused women, men, kids, and even dogs. The ten second countdown started leading up to the Women’s March that would be in textbooks. Everyone prepared; kids overlooked the crowd from trees, elders held hands, short people peered over shoulders. We started. A rush came over me when I realized, I was marching on Washington.

It’s been done before. Martin Luther King Jr. marched, the Suffrages marched, and now, I marched. You would think it’d be impossible for half a million people to be so united, but we were.

Signs; funny, serious, sad, and true, were raised high toward the sky. “Malania, blink twice if you need help;” “Fight like a girl;” “Nasty women.”

I had my mother on one side of me, and my grandmother on the other. We held hands in unison. I couldn’t believe where I was. There was an echo of chants and music bouncing off of us, feeding us more strength and confidence. “This land is your land, this land is my land…” “My body, my choice,” “Hey, hey, ho, ho, Donald Trump has got to go!” I even stepped in with my own mantras, “2, 4, 6, 8, Donald Trump’s a form of hate,” and “Love, don’t hate, democracy’s what makes us great!” All the surrounding people joined in, and I felt like I had just contributed to history by doing something rather than even being there.

Singing, shouting, laughing, and marching together, I felt as though all these strangers were my friends. Everyone had equal respect for each other as we all had the same morals and ideas. It let me know that I wasn’t alone in this. Being in Aspen, I have felt sheltered and not even realize what’s around me in the world I live in. Donald Trump being elected opened my eyes. I felt as though the majority of the country’s population was different than me, but being at the march, I knew that wasn’t the case. I felt the natio uniting despite differences.

I am only fifteen-years-old, and I made history. This is something that not everyone can say. This will be an event that when I am ninety will say, “This is what happened, and I was there.” I’ll feel like Rose from the Titanic, only this is a true story and I was apart of something that was across the whole world.

The Women’s March was not simply a walk across the District of Columbia. It was a stand, a crowd coming together to be one, a show of opinion, it was history, and I, was a part of it.