The day after.
I woke up this morning and, like usual, the first thing I did was get my phone to check the news and then Facebook.
My newsfeed was inundated with pictures and videos of sister marches that occurred on every continent, thousands and thousands of people marching in their cities and towns in solidarity with those who were about to participate in the Women’s March on Washington.
An overhead night shot of the Ann Richards Bridge in Austin showed the mass of citizens marching the night before.
Another photo showed thousands in Berlin marching, right in front of Brandenberg Gate.
Yet another showing signs from the marches in Australia.
A friend posted photos of her two young daughters hard at work, making signs they carried today in the sister march here in Dallas.
I cried, this time tears of amazement.
A friend who lives in London commented on one of my Facebook posts, telling me she thought of me as she marched and how many signs she saw with Hamilton lyrics. How lucky we are to be alive right now, how lucky we are to have Lin-Manuel Miranda unknowingly orchestrate the sounds of a modern-day revolution.
When you’re living on your knees, you rise up
Tell your brother that he’s got to rise up
Tell your sister that she’s got to rise up
“My Shot,” Hamilton: An American Musical