When you’re young, it’s hard to think about the world as a whole. The world is this perfect place without conflict, violence, or pain. As a kid, I thought the world was always in pure harmony. I thought life would just carry on no matter what, and that there was no conflict. It’s a mindset that most privileged kids grow up with. I was wrapped around this mindset until January of 2017, when I was 9 years old.

On Christmas of 2016 my mom told me that we were going to go on a trip to Washington D.C. to visit her old friend and to go to a march for Women’s rights. I had an idea of what that meant, because I had grown up in a family where political rights were talked about frequently. I knew of the discrimination against women and other minorities, and I knew it was wrong. But I didn’t know about the violence that came with the long lasting journey to equality.

The plane ride to D.C. was just like any other flight, except I had no clue what to expect on the other side. I had never been to D.C., and I didn’t fully know what was going to happen while we were there.

When we got to Washington D.C, we met up with my mom’s friend and her daughter who was my age. We walked back to her apartment, because it was right downtown. The first day we were there was really chill and it was more about exploring the city. I could feel the tension in the air though, like the feeling, and I could tell that my mom could too. It was so different from our little rural New Hampshire town that I was so used to.

The last days before the actual Women’s March are when things started to feel less friendly. The night before the march, my mom and her two friends decided to go out to downtown D.C. while me, my friend, and her dad went out to dinner at a restaurant nearby to the apartment. We had been sitting down in the restaurant for about 15 minutes, and everything seemed normal. Then, we started to see police lights outside. Police lights aren’t uncommon in a place like D.C., but something felt off. That’s when my friend’s dad got a call. It was my mom, and she said that there were protesters on the street. There was a large group of people sitting in the middle of a busy intersection. She said that there were riot police, too.

I remember being confused on why my mom was telling my friend’s dad this. Were we in danger? I remember thinking about this when a man came stumbling into the restaurant, yelling. He had been pepper sprayed in the face, and was in pain. I was scared at this point, but still didn’t know what was happening.

A little while later my mom and her friends came to the restaurant, and met us there. My mom was clearly worried, but stayed calm. We ended up leaving the restaurant, and walking back to the apartment. We walked past the protest and the riot police. They were all circling the group of people sitting in the road, blocking everyone in. We walked quickly by, trying not to interfere with anything. I was scared seeing these tall people in uniforms where you could barely see their faces. We got home safely, but I never found out what happened to the protesters.

The Women’s March the next day was peaceful. It was fun getting to see all of the creative signs and feel what it was like to be a part of something so big. So much goes into the endless fight for equality, but our voices are louder together.

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