On Sunday, January 21, the world witnessed history in the making – the Women’s March.   

The Women’s March was a peaceful march, occurring in cities across the globe, to advocate for women’s rights as well as the rights of every human being.  

People marched for equality among races, ethnicities, genders, and religions.  

I marched for the rights that I have, along with every other person living in America.  

It was my dad’s idea for our whole family to go to the march.  It is important for him to see his daughters grow up in a world where we have a voice and can make a difference. 

Expecting the craziness that would come the next day, my family and I took the Metro from West LA to downtown LA on Friday, January 20, the same day of the inauguration. 

That night my family, with three other moms and their daughters, sat around our makeshift Shabbat table at The District (a restaurant at the Sheraton in downtown LA), and we all said what we were marching for.  

Everyone was marching for their own cause, whether it was for all humans, women, oppressed races and religions, or against our presidential administration.

The next morning, we woke up early to join the march.  

We really did not know what to expect. We had been told in the week leading up to the march that there were going to be around 80,000 people.  

We joined the masses at 9:00 AM.  We were close enough to the stage at Pershing Square to hear what people were saying, but too far to actually understand what was being said.  

We didn’t move for another hour and a half.  People were weaving in and out of the crowd trying to find friends and figure out what was happening.  

After another half hour we learned that there were 750,000 people present to march.  The crowds were completely blocking the streets from Pershing Square to City Hall.  

We couldn’t march because there were too many people.  

After the speeches my sister and I squeezed out of the mob and found ourselves mushed into a group of people that had broken off from the main crowd.  

Naturally, we pushed a bit to get to the middle, all while singing, clapping, chanting and waving our signs like it was nobody’s business.  

We finally found a group of five drummers and and about twenty dancers, all dressed in white. They were surrounded by a sea of people wearing pink hats and colorful shirts clapping to the beat.

The people in white danced passionately and in unison.  The crowd moved with them, swaying back and forth.  The drummers, sweating and beating endlessly, all smiled as they watched the scene before them.

It was amazing and so unique, different from anything I had ever seen or felt before. 

I had never felt so connected to a stranger, let alone 300 plus strangers all in a few square feet.

Being on the inside of the circle felt empowering.  I felt like my actions and words, along with everyone else, could really make a difference. 

I had never before felt the power of making history until January 21, 2017.  Looking to the future, I hope to continue to be a part of history, the history of ensuring that people all over the world are given the rights they deserve.