An Inauguration Day Reflection on Hope
by Erika Dayle Siu
January 20, 2021
I remember the first time I saw Kamala Harris on television. She was in a U.S. Senate hearing, examining a witness, whose name and offense I have long forgotten. Instead of haranguing the witness or using the opportunity—as many in these hearings are apt to do—to implicate the opposing political party in the malfeasance or promote one’s own ideology, Senator Harris got straight to the heart of the issue through carefully crafted questions that exposed the wrongdoing. I admired her skill and cool-minded approach to revealing the transgression without needing to lay down bold accusations and damning conclusions. For discerning listeners, the crime was laid bare by her questioning, much like a surgeon’s excision. Although I did notice the fact that she was a woman of color in a position of power, I was mainly admiring her art.
But in our society laden with baggage of white (male) supremacy, violence, and institutional oppression of marginalized peoples, these labels matter . They are symbols of hospitality because they reserve a space at the table for all, and not just a privileged few whose existence is fully accepted and trusted. They matter to me as a woman, and they matter to my daughter, a young woman of color.
This is why role models are so important, because they show us what is possible for whom.
Just because I did not have an abundance of women role models who broke into centers of power, whether they be religious, economic, or political, does not mean that my daughter should not have them. Just because I learned over time to tune out voices seeking to put me in a controlled space, doesn’t mean my daughter should still be subjected to those same voices. Why? Because she will go further than me with fewer impediments, both without and within. You see over time, the nay-saying voices from the outside embed themselves in our subconscious, and we begin to think the limitation is part of who we are. And then, even more sinister, we begin to impose that limitation on to others of our own kind. This is what we women often do to other women, including our own daughters.
It’s tough to resist that temptation with my own daughter, so I have made a conscious effort to give her space. And she has taken every millimeter. From co-ed wrestling to playing the tuba in the band and taking the most difficult math and science courses, she has defied my expectations and even my concerns for her physical and mental well-being as time and time again, she pushes herself to the limits. But in all of these pursuits, she has come out stronger, and I am left in proud wonder.
When the election was finally called and Biden and Harris had won that first Saturday of November, and Kamala donned the white suit in celebration of the one hundred years since the adoption of the 19th amendment that gave women the right to vote, I asked my daughter what it meant to her.
“Why has it taken this long?” she asked me.
From her perspective, there’s no more time for glass ceilings. Hers is the generation of Newtown, active shooter drills in classrooms, uncontrollable climate change, the COVID-19 pandemic, Black Lives Matter, and now political insurrection. She takes RBG’s maxim as a given, “Women belong in all places where decisions are being made.” And she takes seriously the responsibility to speak and act for those who aren’t being heard. Hers is the generation that will walk in the footsteps of Vice President Harris to build a better future for everyone.
So on this day, I am excited about the contribution that Vice President Harris will make to this country. Her record as a District Attorney, Attorney General for the State of California, and United States Senator confirms her competence and dedication to integrity and excellence in public service. I will pray for the President and Vice President as they navigate this country through the environmental, social, economic, political, and public health crises we now face.
But most importantly, I am hopeful that Kamala won’t be the last.
