An Open Letter about the Million Women’s March

As of January 20th, Donald Trump is officially the 45th president of the United States. I logged on to Facebook for a brief second in the morning, almost forgetting and then logged out instantly. I also watched only the highlights of the Inauguration ball, speeches, and Whitehouse greetings without letting it affect my day too negatively. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m safely on the other side of this “wall” that is supposed to be built, but I know that my sisters, friends, mother and other important women are back home now, living in Trump’s new world.

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I didn’t think I’d be this girl

I didn’t always think I’d be this girl.

I had this idea of constant evolution

which we are, aren’t we?

Constantly evolving?

I thought I’d eventually evolve into

the person I was meant to be,

leaving behind all the pain.

Thinking the unfinished business

would turn itself into eventual awareness.

Not realizing that I had to do the work.

Not realizing that happiness has to be maintained.

It isn’t a state of arrival where

you coast once you’re there.

There is no finish line.

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