I marched because I was raised by a bad ass mom and a feminist papa.
I marched because, during the march, a brown woman I was with got told by a counter protester that this great country was founded by beautiful people with blue eyes and blond hair and he told her how important it is to get back to that (idiotic illusion) of America.
I marched because that douche bag Stanford kid got off with a slap on the wrist and a concern over his future while the woman is left to her own devices to repair what he broke.
I marched because every day his story is repeated.
I marched because my papa and my uncle and Chris, these fathers of strong daughters, these husbands of strong women, these sons of strong women, these men who have shown me that strong men aren’t afraid of strong women, marched.
I marched because the love, endurance, kindness, acceptance and strength demonstrated Saturday in Washington and around the world repaired some of those breaks.
I marched because I want to spend more time building up my strong amazing sisterhood and less time breaking myself or anyone else down.