I am still processing the gravity of what has happened. A Black, South Asian woman, daughter of immigrants, fellow HBCU grad, and most importantly, my sorority sister has ascended to the second-highest office in the land. I find myself still holding my breath as I fear that exhaling would mean that what has been achieved will be undone and evaporate just like the air I push from my lungs. I was still feeling the sting of Stacy Abrams’ gubernatorial run on election night until she clapped back and took the entire state, getting not just one, but two Democrats elected to the Senate in addition to delivering the presidency to Joe Biden. Yes, Dems took back the White House. But my focus is on the US Naval Observatory. Kamala Harris represents everything that I take measure in. I’ve hung all my political hopes on her in 2020 just as I had done in 2008 with Barack Obama.
I am also protecting my heart. I’m proud and terrified at the same time. I want to shout that I am a member of the same sorority and pledged in the same chapter as our Vice President. At the same time, I don’t want to give anyone who doesn’t understand its significance room to criticize or question. I’m weary of explaining its importance to “others”.
Of course, I share my fears with my tribe of sorors, friends, and other like-minded folks. But, sharing has its limits. For instance, I dare not share this with my boss, a white woman and someone I consider a friend. She would be described as a RINO by the people who stormed the Capitol Building just a few short weeks ago. She once joked a couple of years ago that she would vote for Trump again. She seemed bewildered when I told her that I believed him to be racist.
Since Kamala Harris’ ascension, my sorority and my alma mater Howard University have been illuminated and elevated in the public sphere, revealing them to be what I’ve always known – they are bastions of Black excellence, exceptionalism, and pride. I fear, like so many things in African American culture, these institutions’ history and meaning will be co-opted and devalued. I see our paraphernalia advertised on white models, white kids “stepping”, dog-walkers taking liberties on the precious and revered “Yard” on Howard’s campus.
I’m still processing what all of this will mean in the weeks, months, and years to come. Ultimately, I can only hope that Kamala’s ascension will not only show Black children that they can aspire to be anything, but that our nation can improve its standing in the world and return to being the nation that is embodied in our founders’ lofty rhetoric. Our Vice President said, “I may be the first, but I most certainly won’t be the last.” I sure hope so, Sis. I sure hope so.
