As the rain picked up and my knees started to ache, I wondered what am I doing here? Am I changing anything? Is anyone paying attention? Why am I at the March for Science? The answer came back fast, although it was not a simple one.

Election night 2016 was a stunner. There were many good reasons not support to Donald Trump, but the one that troubled me the most was what his election meant for our efforts to address climate change. His election meant that our last line of defense against unfettered pandering to corporate wishes was gone. It frightened me and made me angry. The March for Science gave me a chance to speak up about something that matters; something that matters in a greater way than anything that I have ever cared about.

In reality, the story of why I marched begins long before November, 2016. It begins over 35 years ago in a classroom in a small high school in the mountains of North Carolina. A high school where the majority of my classmates thought they were headed to good lives working in mills, factories, and warehouses. I did not know it, but I was headed in a different direction.

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