When I first learned about the Women's March on Washington (then dubbed the Million Woman March), I rolled my eyes. HARD. One reason was because it was created by and for privileged white women, the same women who voted against Hillary, ensuring a Trump presidency. The 1b reason why I was so annoyed was that this same march, a march created by and for privileged white women, many who voted for Trump, had the audacity and unmitigated gall to co-opt a march meant for the progression and uplift of my people.

I was mad. I swore I'd have absolutely nothing to do with the march.

As time progressed however, I heard that the creators of the march realized their mistake, renamed it, and began to diversify its leadership.

I was still skeptical. I wondered if this was yet another time for women of color to be used by white women for their own gain. I was very skeptical.

I feel it's time to interrupt this message and state what should be obvious. I am a Womanist. A year-old Womanist, but Womanist nonetheless. Before fully understanding this thing called Womanism, I've always identified as a feminist (more specifically a Black feminist), so how issues affect women have always been important to me.

I shared that skepticism with my younger cousin who served as a march coordinator at Howard University. She said she understood why I felt that way, but encouraged me to take a different look.

I did.

I began to like what I saw. However, I still couldn't shake the feeling that this seemed too good to be true. There had to be something lurking beneath. So it should go without saying that my attendance flip-flopped up until the night before Trump's inauguration.

I didn't want to go because I didn't think I'd have a voice, but I also knew that that was the very reason I should go. I should go and represent the Womanist population. But, but....

Then I saw it. I saw her name, and I knew I had to be there. Angela Davis.

If you know me, you've probably heard me fangirl out at some point behind Sis. Angela. She's strong, Black, brilliant, beautiful, unapologetic, INCREDIBLE. In fact, when she came to speak at Mizzou, I pushed my way through the crowd just so I could meet her and take a picture. Angela doesn't attach her name to any old thing. If she's there, she believes in the march's purpose.

That did it. I was sold.

Yesterday morning, I woke up, made sure I wore my AKA jacket and apple green scarf, and walked the 5.6 miles from my home to the march's location. My friends and I arrived only 30 minutes after the march began, and the amount of people present had already reached awe-inspiring amounts. Still, I saw few women of color, and even fewer Black women. I was a bit discouraged and felt like the fly in the milk.

As time wore on, I felt more encouraged with each speaker, mostly Black and Brown women, from varied backgrounds and cultures. I began to see more Black women arrive, and several "Black Girl Magic" signs. I smiled. We were there. I was not alone. Our voices were heard on stage and in the crowd. My fears started to die.

Only then was I truly able to see the rich diversity of those in attendance. All races, ages, gender and political leanings were present. Yes, even the Trump voters showed, and not to protest, but to participate. I don't know, and I won't presume to understand why they would vote for Donald Trump then attend a very anti-Trump march, but it didn't infuriate me. I'm actually glad they showed, and I'm hoping some of what they heard soaked in and they'll begin to fight for justice rather than injustice. I'm hoping they won't have to look to us to save them again. I guess some of my skepticism remains. Y'all pray for me.

Back to the diversity--I was incredulous. It was beautiful to see so many people, SO MANY PEOPLE, come together for a common cause. We were making history, and I could feel it. As we left, it seemed we couldn't escape the crowds. Most people were so far from the stage that they couldn't hear/see what was going on, but that didn't discourage them. Each crowd was celebrating and protesting in their own way. We happened upon a group not far away from the Holocaust Museum that had drums, and were dancing. Even the National Guard, whose tankers were ready to go (for what, I don't know), were hanging out of their trucks and participating. It was glorious!

Sadly, I didn't get to hear Angela speak; Kamala Harris' speech stood in her place for me, but I don't regret a thing. I will never forget what I witnessed yesterday: women around the world (shoutout to KC and Chicago) marched in solidarity, and (with my fist in the air) stood together against the patriarchy. My extremely sore muscles and I are so glad we went.

Now it's time to get to work.