Dear Kamala, On the Eve of Your Election

Dear Kamala,

Let’s get this out of the way. That crazy fist pumping woman in the 2020 video when you campaigned in Raleigh was me. Not my most graceful moment, but the passion was earnest.

I have a favorite cashmere sweater that has “Representation Matters” stitched across the chest. I chose this saying because I have been fighting my whole life to not be the only person of color or woman or woman of color in the room. And here we are, on the cusp of shattering ceilings and busting  systems that were designed to keep us out. 

I’m 56-years old, and here we are. 

When I was in first grade my teacher asked us what we all wanted to be when we grew up. I very eagerly shot my arm in the air and proudly stated, “PRESIDENT.” She swiftly said, “You weren’t born here. Pick something else.” That gutted me as a child. Shame and embarrassment were brimming over in my little self, and it is the first time I recollect being othered. These are the things we carry.

That was 50 years ago.

When I was about 10-years old I wrote a letter to Hamburger Helper telling the company that its ad campaign was sexist. I lived with my dad, unheard of in late 70s, so the ad didn’t ring true to me at all, and I hated that it assumed women did all the cooking. The old jingle went “Hamburger Helper helps her hamburger help her make a great meal.” I cringe thinking about the ad execs sitting around a conference room table concepting and running with this. This was my first act of advocacy.

I work in advocacy for a living now. Go figure.

When I was 12 I was living with my dad and my older brother. We shared DNA but not the same temperament. Everyone who knew me then said I was “overly emotional.” And they said I was idealistic as if it were an insult. But I embraced being a dreamer, still do. One day my dad tossed a book on my bed, and I remember this part vividly, and he said, “You’re going to grow up to be a brown woman in the South, and probably small, so people won’t take you seriously. Read this.” The book had a picture of the Mona Lisa on the cover and was called How to Be an Assertive Woman. It was among the many self help books on my dad’s shelves.

I never read the book but I took his message to heart.

When I was 49, I served as chief of staff to our state’s First Lady. Governor Cooper and his wife hosted the first Diwali celebration ever at the executive mansion. Guests were greeted with rangolis, feasted on samosas, and positively sparkled in their Indian 22-karat gold jewels and jewel-tone silk sarees. Partygoers of all faiths lit the diya in a show of unity. It was the first time I felt seen and proud of my heritage in a professional space.

I’ll spare you the details of many more formative moments and memories over the decades, but know that I have been driven by social justice my whole life. I’ve pissed off a lot of men and heard a lot of venom. But their taunts and tantrums fueled me. I have always known a better world awaits and women would save us all along. My goal was to be a kinder, less judgy auntie, and the jury is still out on that. But the aunties know what’s up.

Now all these years later, my dad probably regrets giving me that book. I proved to be a pretty difficult, headstrong kid. He raised a dreamer and a fighter. My dad, an Indian man who spent his career in engineering and business, taught me and my brother why and how to smash the patriarchy. He set the example in what I wanted in a husband, so I have had my own Doug for 25 years now (truth be told he’s a perfect Doug and Tim mashup), and we’re raising sons who shirk gender stereotypes and stand with us on the right side of history. 

I can’t believe I get to vote for someone who looks like me tomorrow. The only thing better would be if Dad and I voted in the same state so we could go to the polls together. But, you do have our votes in Pennsylvania and North Carolina so there’s that! Kamala Devi, this girl from Kolkata with a name no one can pronounce or spell, will cast a vote for you tomorrow and shed tears of joy and pride. And maybe a bit of relief too.

I waited my whole life for this.

Ilina