By KCY

On Saturday night, Kamala Harris stepped into history as the first woman, first black woman and first woman of South Asian descent to become elected as the vice president of the United States.

Holding my daughter, we watched with rapt attention as Vice president-elect Harris addressed the nation.

When I saw her come out in a white pantsuit, I immediately recognized her nod to the suffragette movement. I nudged my daughter, whispering, “she’s celebrating our struggles for equality and our right to vote.”

Vice president-elect Harris spoke about our democracy, the women who paved the way for her and her own mother, an immigrant from India.

As she spoke, tears sprang to my eyes, surprising me.

I’m not an overly political person, and I’m most definitely not what you would call a feminist, but seeing a person of color, a woman in the limelight on this stage, a daughter of immigrants struck a cord in me. For the first time, I was seeing someone like me, a woman of color, a biracial woman….a woman.  

“While I may be the first woman in this office, I will not be the last, because every little girl watching tonight sees that this is a country of possibilities,” she said.

A country of possibilities.

My parents taught m to believe the United States was a country of possibilities. My father firmly believed this, having immigrated from his home country Turkey. Even though I believed the United States was this country of possibilities, I never truly thought that this country of possibilities included having a woman, a woman of color in one of the highest offices.

Unfortunately, of no fault of anyone’s, I learned that being a woman was a disadvantage. You were never going to get anywhere in your career if you wanted to have children and be married. Furthermore, your role was to support your husband in your marriage. To put your dreams on hold. And even if you had big dreams, it was a long shot those dreams would come to fruition.

When Barack Obama became president in 2008, new hope arose in my heart. A person of color, finally! But still a man. And still, not an Asian man.

Because, let’s be honest here, Asians have been viewed as the “good minority.” The minority who work hard. Who follow the rules. Who are the people in the background who do all the work, but don’t receive the recognition. Kind of like in that old-time Gene Kelly movie Singing in the Rain, where the actual singer is not the one you see on the screen (I love that movie, but so fitting.). We’ve been taught to not make noise. Making noise is disagreeable. Consequently, we, as an ethnicity, are viewed as weak.

So, to see a woman of South Asian descent on the biggest stage in the United States, it’s quite remarkable, and gives me hope.

Kamala Harris gives me the audacity to dream.

“And to the children of our country, regardless of your gender, our country has sent you a clear message: Dream with ambition, lead with conviction, and see yourself in a way that others might not see you, simply because they’ve never seen it before. And we will applaud you every step of the way,” she concluded.

It gives me hope my daughter won’t be afraid to dream and make those dreams a reality. To know she is good enough. It gives me hope my son, as an Asian male, breaks through barriers and stereotypes, dares to forge his own path, dares to become a leader. It gives me hope that, I, too, will recognize my own self-worth.