Kamala Harris is our next Vice President.
A woman is going to be in the White House for the first time.
Yes, Joe Biden is our next President. Of course, I’m relieved, but... there will be a female Vice President with Indian and Jamaican roots!
I heard the news, and I hollered to Paul. Then I texted everyone I possibly could, “Woo-hoo!”. I posted it on Facebook. Then I texted a friend and said, “she’s in the White House.” I was sharing my excitement and joy, but when I hit send, I started to cry. Tears rolled down my face.
I had waited all of my life – 51 years – for this glass ceiling to break, and here it was. I didn’t realize until that very moment that I had been waiting—holding my breath. Never really expecting the norm to change. And then it did.
Tears were dried on my cheeks when Paul walked into the room moments later. I watched the news and special reports of the election results and the parties in the streets across the country. I was a ball of excitement with nowhere to go. I hesitated to share, but I had to tell him.
I told him how overwhelmed I was with the news and the surprise. "You don’t know what it feels like to see so many men in power. So many white men in power for so long. And to have to live with the feeling of being lesser. And to be taught that it’s normal. We are supposed to be okay with the images of 45 Presidents and Vice Presidents who don't look like us. Others say that there are excellent reasons for this. We need to be patient, understand, and be excited when people are ready for change." Bullshit.
I am tired of hearing news about “the first woman to…”, “the first person of color to…”, even “the first male…”. I look forward to the days of no more firsts. When we can all be what we desire to be when all opportunities are equal. When gender, race, and sexual orientation are of no consequence. Don’t tell me it’s naïve to think so. I dare to dream big. I want it ALL.
I wish I could write the absolute best blog for everyone to read and say, “yeah, that’s how I feel." So that we can nod our heads and raise our fists in strength together. In pride. In relief. In unity. I wish I could speak and inspire all of us to come together to celebrate and break all of the remaining limits.
I don’t know what to do, though.
Saturday, I chose to put on loud music and blast it through the open windows on a 70-degree sunny day. I put the U.S. flag out front and danced on the deck with joy. I called Jordan, my beautiful girl, and begged her to put aside her worry about transitions and celebrate with me.
I will take all of the anger and pain from the last several years and turn it into action to move us forward. I have no idea how to do this. But I will try.
She is the first, but not the last.
How do you feel about this historic news? What will you do? What can I do with you?
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