Our march does not end once the placards are downed: we need to build stronger and more cohesive communities, and change the standard of our political discourse at dinner tables, on WhatsApp and in shops and town halls around the world. Not only to challenge inequality, but to include people who otherwise could be susceptible to the easy answers of hate.
Some men can sometimes feel intimidated by groups of women coming together and expressing themselves perfectly to the rest of the world with total independence. This male insecurity has to be addressed and stopped. It is counter productive.
By 2030 I'd like to see a world where all women have access to water and sanitation, equal rights, equal opportunities, and are living healthy lives out of poverty, free to make choices about their part in the world.
In the words of Mrs Clinton, "never give up for fighting for what you believe is right." That fight might have got a little bit harder but now, like never before, it is imperative we act both as individuals and as businesses.
Now is the time to test how truly nasty we can be. In the aftermath of this glorious wave of protests, I want to use my voice, and my privilege, to carry that feeling I had when the sign was in my hand. To speak out for others who don't recognise themselves in an ever-shifting political landscape, where the elite continue to thrive, and the disadvantaged continue to be bulldozed in the name of progress.
Anti-Trump protestors will only have a chance of gaining credibility for their cause, among Trump supporters and on a global level, and they will only have a chance of successfully damaging Trump's Presidency in some way or other, if they protest in a way that can be taken seriously and respected.
My stories are not unusual. They have become some sort of norm. Today and throughout the centuries, across cultures and worldwide, women have had to find ways to deal with their bodies being treated as the property of men.
I still think about my own painful times, but learned from the job loss journey that you can have it all and suddenly have nothing; and also that with the right help, someone who has nothing can be given that most precious thing of all: their life.
To the people who were there and to the people who walked the same march around the world, I am proud of you. To the organisers of the marches all over the world, thank you. I'm going to take today to relax at home, and find a place in my room for my obscenely large placard. My fight will resume tomorrow.
Social media can offer sanity-saving connectedness and support, particularly during the isolated early days of parenthood, but I implore parents to consider carefully what information they make public.
Learning takes time, perseverance, effort and the knowledge that the learner has a right to be wrong, to make mistakes and to figure it out gradually. A learner's own imperfect answer which is the result of patience and reading is better than someone else's supposedly 'great' answer, acquired quickly online.
Technology has been "stealing our jobs" since at least the Bronze Age, so it's surprising after all these years that any of us have a job to go to in the mornings. The tired old trope of machines stealing the bread from our children's mouths has been trotted out at intervals since the time of Ned Ludd (at least), and the reason it keeps getting an airing is simple: it plays on our fears and insecurities - and it makes great copy. This does not, however, make it true.
If you look at the records, he simply doesn't exist, as if he was a somehow nothing more than a figment of my imagination. But he's so much more than that. And while Archie was only on this Earth for a few short minutes, he existed to me. He was, and will always be, my little boy and there's not a day goes by that I don't think of him. You see, according to UK law as it stands, a parent cannot be issued with a birth certificate if the child is born showing no signs of life before 24 weeks.
When Donald Trump declared last year that women who have abortions should be punished, he met widespread condemnation. Yet in the UK we have no right to be smug. In our country today, women can and are being punished for having an abortion.
Friday marks Donald Trump's inauguration, a day many of us had never envisaged. For many of us, it is not just political - it is personal. As a Muslim, an African, a refugee, a woman and a socialist, I fear many of Trump's policies. Of higher borders and a no Muslim entrance policy, of lower corporation tax and casual misogyny. I fear their impact and I fear our future with the way our world leaders are shaping up.
I won't be watching the inauguration of the 45th President of the United States, not out of disdain or disrespect, but because I've spent enough time looking at this Strong Man and understanding how he gained power, and now it's time to look at what role I can play to make sure the next leaders whose rise I can influence is not of his ilk.
From initial symptoms of depression to admission to a mental health unit 10 days later via the crisis team, depression ripped the rug out from under my feet and emptied my whole being. I have been completely disabled and incapacitated by this illness.
Instead of reeling off a list of arguments about why the voters deserve a chance to vote on whether the exact type of Brexit we're getting is the one they wanted, I am instead providing you with a warning, from a parallel universe...
Like many people in cinemas around the world, this week I fell utterly in love with La La Land. For me, the film had extra sparkle because I went to Los Angeles last summer and got to reminisce about an absolutely wonderful trip.
I moved to London just over a year ago, and was introduced almost immediately to the most active and vibrant LGBT scene that I had ever known. People around me were comfortable in their skins in a way that was new to me - they wore the rainbow flag with pride, dated openly and flirted unashamedly.
As a human, woman and feminist, I support the march. As a mother, I feel it is fundamental for me to join the protest, to show solidarity with people the world over, to register discontent with institutionalised prejudice and casual misogyny, but also to feel good about our children's future.
For fear of judgement from others, older women tend to play it safe fashion-wise, sticking to a handful of brands that we see our peers wearing and giving up on anything that we perceive to represent 'young fashion'. In truth, many women my age feel that they've lost the right to wear what they want. But, as I've said many times before, and will continue to do so - fashion is ageless!