On Wednesday, at 11 a.m., there were tears in my eyes. At first I unconsciously tried to blink them away, but then I realized that I didn’t care because I was working from home, alone, because everyone is social distancing on the 1-year anniversary of the Covid-19 virus being discovered in the U.S. and causing a worldwide pandemic.
It’s been a long, hard year.
And so, at 11 a.m. as the new President and Vice President prepared to take their oaths of office and hopefully make some new decisions that will change the world for the better, I cried. I cried and I prayed and I admired all their long, beautiful coats.
I tried to project my thoughts forward to a time when we’ll look back on this. We’ll see photos of everyone wearing masks, separated into corrals, an empty national mall filled with flags instead of people. We’ll see diversity and big blended families standing in front of the Capitol. We’ll see thousands and thousands of military guards poised to protect democracy, because it was so close to being broken. An impeached President, not in attendance. It will be weird to look back on this. It might not make us proud to remember how we got to this moment and why we’re here. But I hope that from here on, we figure out how to be better.
I think we’re already better.
I believe we’re better because I see so much hope in my friends’ and families’ eyes. I see pictures of people holding their children in front of Biden signs. I see mothers turning on the TV for their daughters to watch the first woman sworn in as Vice President. This tells of a hope for the long-term. Not just the next four years, which our babies still won’t remember at all. But hope for them to grow up in a world where change is possible, where people matter, and where love and kindness will win.
On Wednesday, we witnessed history being made. We witnessed the manifestation of a girl’s dreams. We know this now: a girl can grow up to be Vice President of the United States. A girl can be a singer, a poet, a Senator. She can be in the military, be a doctor, be a mother. She can say important, powerful things, and people will listen. She can make important, powerful decisions, and change will happen. She can dream and write and create and build and speak and run. She can fail and she can succeed. She can be brave and strong and daring. She can be a boss, a teacher, a politician, a musician, a wife. She can be faithful and honest and supportive and caring. She can wear blue or red or purple or pearls or fatigues or a necktie, and she will know that it won’t matter. Because she will be remembered for who she is and how she treats others.
My daughter is going to grow up with this fact. She will know in her heart that she can actually do anything she wants.
My daughter is too young to know this now. She’ll never remember this moment. But I almost hope she doesn’t have to. I hope that seeing a woman in power will not be a big deal to her. I hope it will be normal. I will remind her that women do great and amazing things and that they always have. I will tell her that other women paved the way for her. That what she sees as normal was not always and that she should always be grateful and proud to carry on their legacy. She’ll be able to look back to see how far we’ve come but she’ll know that she is the future. She is a girl who will grow up in a better time. A more hopeful time.
I believe I was raised in a time and in a way where I was told I could do whatever I wanted and be anything I wanted to be. But I didn’t see it. I was encouraged to follow my dreams, and I was pushed to be better and to succeed. But I didn’t see anyone to follow. I didn’t have an example. No one pointed to a woman and said, this is how she did it. Until now. Maybe it’s too late for me. Or maybe not, but maybe I’m content.
But my daughter has her whole life to see women in leadership. She will see women at the table, leaning in, standing up, speaking out, joining and leading conversations, and making decisions. She can be whoever she wants to be, just like I was told as I was growing up, but now her options are real to her. Her leaders are out there for her to follow. They can teach her how to be her own leader. There is no ceiling for her, glass or otherwise.