I bounce up and down, toes jamming into the pavement, trying to get a better glimpse of the current speaker and trying to warm my feet, now numb from cold. Signs with red handprints wave above my head and cheers and screams echo from my fellow protesters. With directions from one of the main organizers, we turn and begin to march up towards the highway. Footsteps thunder down the concrete and the beating of helicopter propellers can be heard high above us. Adding to the din are shouts carried by the rallyers of “Black Lives Matter!” and “What do we want? Justice! When do we want it? Now!”

Our throng of protesters climbs the entrance ramp to an empty freeway with traffic jammed to a complete stop heading the opposite direction. Protesters flood the sectioned off, empty lanes, but also jump over the highway divider and into the standstill of cars on the other side of the road. Signs are held high and some cars honk their horns along to the rhythm of the chants: “Hands up! Don’t shoot!”

I hop up onto the freeway barrier with my friends and look back at the sheer mass of humanity spanning across the freeway lanes. There is no visible end to the crowd, and when you think you might see it, more protesters spill over the entrance ramp. Hundreds, thousands of people are here tonight because of the injustice served in Ferguson, Missouri. One thing we all know is this: The fight for equality between races is far from over.