The poster was snatched from my hands and crumpled. Its message was dead – or so I thought.

It all started with a bit of idleness. My two good friends and I were trying to find a way to entertain ourselves during the seemingly endless winter break. This eventually led us to drive all the way across the state. The reason: to attend a political rally for Donald Trump. But unlike most attendees, we weren’t going there to support Trump for President. In fact, we were going for the antithesis: to show our disapproval. I also secretly wanted our young political voices to be heard, although I doubted that would happen.

We made a classic protest poster that read “Can I Have a Small Loan of a Million Dollars for College?” This phrase was based on Trump’s quote about receiving loans from his father. We chose it to express our concerns about the high college tuition rates faced by our generation.

Sadly, our poster was crumpled by a security guard moments after we displayed it. Trump supporters quickly took notice and began verbally harassing us. Before I knew it, more guards arrived.

Three security officers ushered us away from the crowd into a small corridor. One of them reached for the wallet in my hand, plucked out my driver’s license, and photographed it. Once they realized how young we were, the officers decided to give us a warning, told us to leave the premises, and remarked that it was brave of us to express our beliefs amidst the hostile crowd.

As we headed out, we were greeted by a young woman carrying a pen and paper. A reporter, she had noticed us getting expelled from the rally. It turned out she worked for the state newspaper and wanted to write an article about protesters who had attended the Trump rally. We gladly agreed to an interview and had our picture taken for her article. This gave me some hope that our voices might yet be heard.

The following morning, I opened a new e-mail from my English teacher. It contained a link to a newspaper article. At the top was the image of me and my friends taken by the reporter. Quotes from the interview were in the article as well as our names. The comments section was filling up with praise and acknowledgment of our statements.

I was astonished. People had actually heard our voices! And it didn’t stop there. Classmates, teachers, cousins, coworkers of my parents, and even my grandma’s ski club read the article. Our story even made it across the Atlantic to Wales! People took our message seriously and passed it on.

As a result, I believe that even small actions can enable you to let your voice be heard. Although I was doubtful at first, my friends and I presented our political stance and gained recognition on a substantial and significant level. It also empowered us to voice our concerns to others on current issues that will soon impact our future. From Detroit to Wales, we were heard because of our small protest. Our voices were not dead. They live on.

This I believe.