Zoe Nightingale

It's Saturday January 21, 7 am. After spending 24 hours deeply entrenched in enemy territory, sounded by giant trump letters and scattered blobs of amorphous humans covered in red make America Great Again hats (only 19.95 for a limited time only, but wait theres more!) clawing my eyes out trying to talk sense into glassy eyed humans who had all drank Trumps orange cool aid.... I was about ready to Madame Butterfly my innards....HOWEVER The next morning THANK GOD I am woken up by my over caffinated mother and 15 of her pink headed pals getting their chants together in my kitchen. We started early, we had signs, we had snacks, we had clear plastic back packs, hand sanitizer, fully stocked metro cards and a lot of attitude. THE MARCH WAS MADNESS. Pink headed women swarmed the streets, shut down the subways, and overwhelmed all means of transport. Millions of women, mad, proud, sad, and reinvigorated to fight against our waking nightmare MR TRUMP. This march I believe, was about finding the strength to fight the