Women’s March in Colorado Springs | January 21, 2017

On January 21, 2017, people gathered in Colorado Springs as part of the nationwide Women’s March, a sister march moving alongside Washington, D.C., and cities across the world.

I photographed the march in its entirety.

These images were not made to be polished or arranged. They were created as witness, quiet, steady documentation of a day shaped by presence, movement, and collective voice. This post exists as a record of that moment, preserved intentionally and without embellishment.

A Day That Asked to Be Remembered

The Women’s March emerged during a time of deep uncertainty. For many, it followed conversations filled with fear, frustration, grief, and resolve. What unfolded that day became one of the largest coordinated demonstrations in modern history, not just nationally, but globally.

In Colorado Springs, the march felt both expansive and intimate.

People arrived carrying signs, wearing layers against the cold, holding hands with children, partners, friends. Some stood quietly. Others spoke loudly. Many simply showed up, letting their presence speak for itself.

The energy was calm but resolute. Peaceful, but unwavering.

Photographing as Witness

I approached this day as a documentarian.

There was no directing, no shaping of moments, only observation. I followed the movement of the crowd, the pauses between chants, the small exchanges that happened when people stood close together for something that mattered.

Documentary photography asks for restraint.
It asks the photographer to step back, to listen, to allow moments to unfold without interruption.

These images are raw because the day itself was raw.

The Weight and Quiet of Presence

What stood out most was not the scale, though it was large, but the emotional range held within it.

There was grief, visible and unspoken.
There was hope, fragile and determined.
There was anger, yes, but also tenderness.

Handmade signs told stories in marker and cardboard. Some were carefully lettered, others hurriedly written, created because saying something felt necessary in that moment.

People stood together not because they were the same, but because they were willing to share space.

Why This Post Exists

This post is not meant to persuade.
It is not meant to simplify a complex moment or draw conclusions from it.

It exists to document.

In a world where digital content is constantly rewritten, archived, or erased, preserving moments like this matters. Years from now, people will search for this day, not only the national march, but the way it unfolded locally, in their own communities.

This is for them.

It is also for those who were there, a way to remember what it felt like to stand shoulder to shoulder, even briefly, even quietly.

Documentary Photography as Record

Photography has long served as a form of collective memory. Documentary images become touchstones, not because they are perfect, but because they are honest.

These photographs are not edited for beauty.
They are edited for truth.

They reflect a moment that cannot be recreated, only remembered.

Looking Back, Without Closing the Story

With time, moments like the Women’s March gather new layers of meaning. What felt immediate and urgent becomes part of a longer, ongoing narrative, one that continues to evolve.

This post remains intentionally open-ended.

No conclusions are drawn here.
No resolutions offered.

Only the images.
Only the day.

Held as it was.