Image of ALL of the VPs in the US as of Jan 2021. Find the image here https://twitter.com/jerrysaltz/status/1325223500722933760

Not long ago our family visited the North Carolina state house and we meandered through an empty and majestic building. Wonder filled my kids’ faces and enthusiasm their voices as we took in the beauty and learned about all that happens there. My kids felt connected to something bigger.

Before leaving, we received a poster with pictures of our state representatives and the connection was lost. My kids saw how it’s mostly white people that occupy this space and bring about this work. Their faces dropped and the questions flowed, “why aren’t there more people with black and brown skin?” and “where are all the girls?” Their longing to live fully and to be all that they imagine, is too often crushed by the harsh reality of our biased system.

After the state house visit, my 5 yr old asked, “how did the white people get the power?” She cannot un-know what she had learned; the people who make the rules meant to govern and protect all of us do not look like her, the people who are supposed to embody everyone, do not. Though my kids momentarily forgot, the world was quick to remind them that it is white people who generally end up at the top. My kids see meaning in this – they understand which lives are most valued by looking at who is represented in powerful places. The poster we received served as a material and visible illustration of how power and human worth are not equally shared.

That brings us to today, voting season. I can’t help but feel encouraged and grateful when I see Kamala Harris. In Kamala, my kids see themselves and they feel hope. Kamala, a woman of color, in spite of a system that works to diminish her, holds a position of great import and exemplifies authority, poise and promise. Unfortunately, as my kids discerned in viewing that legislative poster, this is much too rare. Each time Kamala says “l’m speaking” she lets my babies know that they matter, that their voice should be heard, that no one should take their time or speak over them. Kamala is showing them a different story of who they are today, who they can become and how their lives matter. For me, voting for Kamala is a vote for my kids.

At the same time, my vote for Kamala is also a vote for me and for all of us. Looking at that legislative poster and the image of our past VPs, I see what my kids see – that white, male leadership and governance is the norm in the US. I also see that this norm doesn’t work for me. It holds the vision for myself and for our country captive and it reinforces the ways whiteness rules over and devalues others. Because I love brown and black people; because I witness the inequity; because I am impacted by disintegrating relationships across families, communities and wider society; because I’m more awake to the harms of racism; and because I’m working to end white superiority, I am compelled to reimagine what our leadership can and should look like. Kamala is one person helping us all see that there is a different way.

I get it. You might not see Kamala in the same way and may not share the enthusiasm I feel. You might see her as faulted and maybe even harmful. Your vote is your stand. It represents what you’re fighting for, what you’re fighting against and the issues or lives that matter to you. But the same old type of leader and the same old way leadership reflects only some of us, is no longer acceptable – it should’ve never been acceptable. My vote is my attempt at reducing harm.

When my 5 year old states, “I’m not exactly white and I also don’t have power” she is asking me to use my position to stand for her. My vote is a chance to champion my loved ones and all of us for whom racism is deadly. I vote to resist the ways power is given only to some and I vote against the oppressive ways of whiteness. I vote because I am responsible to the people I love and I need to account for what I’m doing during a time when we saw a President openly displayed that he did not see life crushing white supremacy as a problem.

For a long time, whiteness kept my imagination small. I left its normalcy unquestioned. I’m learning about race and racism, not because the lessons come easily, but because I love black and brown people and I value equality and justice. I continue to seek opportunities to learn about whiteness because, though it is difficult to grow my understanding in this way, it makes my life better and it, ultimately, makes me a better human being. I’m sharing what I’m learning because I hope, similar to how my life has been enriched, we can join with one another and be enriched together.

I’ll end with the questions about our leadership put forth by my little ones, “why aren’t there more people with black and brown skin?” and “where are all the girls?” Can we imagine more than what we’ve seen? I’m hopeful that we can.