Trump first crash landed onto my radar back in March last year in the peaceful, weed-scented hippy-town of Dali in China. This tango-tastic man kept popping up on the breakfast area’s centrally placed TV, nailed to the wall where everyone could not help but have to see it. Every morning, whilst I sipped my earl-grey tea, he was there. Softly yet boldly in the background. Who was this Trump? What did he want with the world? What was going down with that comb-over?
Irony would have it that I was in Dali for 3 months studying Jiu-Jitsu self-defence techniques for women. Fast-forward 9 months later, and I’m at the Women’s March London to defend you, me and the sisterhood of this planet.