People marched on 1/21. These are their stories: Kiki Steele

I chose to vocalize wrongs when I saw them rather than sit quietly as I was told.

I chose to vocalize wrongs when I saw them rather than sit quietly as I was told. I’ve never been good at keeping my mouth shut. Even at a young age, offered the choice of getting along with my father’s new family by keeping my opinions to myself or quite literally getting booted out the door, I chose to vocalize wrongs when I saw them rather than sit quietly as I was told. My three daughters grew up with a mother who would run to teachers or principals, write letters, whatever it took to right the situation. I was never afraid to stand up. To speak out. For them, or for myself. It was never something I sought to do. It was – is – me. I have no fear. Because to not speak out when you know something to be wrong, that is the only definition of failure I know. Because it is in that moment that we all have a chance to effect change, and to me there is nothing more important. So, when the unthinkable happened on November 8th, when my daughters and I saw the wave, even before the election, of Americans speaking out for those principles we hold dear, including women’s equality and our right to choose, affordable health care, and inclusion for all marginalized groups, we joined the groundswell each in our own way. But when told of the Women’s March, I knew it was something I wanted, indeed needed, to do with them. So, I ditched my plan to go to Washington, DC, instead organizing for us to meet up in New York City where I knew we could all be together. And when we marched that day, I knew with certainty I had done something meaningful with my life. That being on the other side of the door was where I belonged, because I had raised these strong, powerful, and incredible women who would keep working, long after I’d gone, to make sure that this world is a better place for all of us.

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