I’m not a political person.
Last night, after the speeches ended and fireworks burst through the air, tears began to burst from my eyes. It caught me off-guard.
I haven’t been emotional about this election. It wasn’t until she was 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, her family surrounding her, that it really set in for me. For my daughter.
Witnessing the first woman, a bi-racial woman, accept the VP nomination got me. It snuck up on me (although it shouldn’t have). I watched her with my daughter, who up until now, I would’ve had to explain to that men run our country. Men are in the positions of power. I’d tell her to dream big, but not too big, because you’re a woman.
Progress. We have that now. And it might have snuck up on us (me) but it’s here. Blatant. A woman in the White House.
As VP-elect, Kamala Harris put it last night, “I may be the first, but I won’t be the last.”
Amaya Hope Washington, my fiery, little four year old, VP of the United States, 2056?
That can be a thing now.