I walked into the studio last Friday feeling quite patriotic in my new navy-blue hot shorts with the white stars and jumped onto my mat like it was a stage. I spread my arms wide and declared, “Who else watched Kamala change the world last night?”
Everyone just sort of looked at me and shrugged. One of my friends mumbled, “I didn’t get a chance to watch it,” under her breath. No one really seemed to understand what all the hype was about.
My social media feed was mysteriously vacant of any political commentary. It was the usual lineup of friends posting photo dumps of their summer travels, their kid’s first days at school, their most recent outdoor exploits and photos of their pets.
I don’t know what I was expecting. A seismic shift; something detectable in the air; a buzz; a higher level of consciousness? Maybe some pink grass and a green sky? I felt like I had just witnessed the making of history in real time: one of those moments in life I knew I’d never forget. Instead of apathy, I felt hope. Instead of shame, I felt pride. Instead of paralysis, I felt momentum. Instead of fear, I felt empowered. I felt, for the first time I can remember — patriotic.
She can do this.
I never thought of myself as a feminist, having always preferred the company of men. I enjoy the simplicity of their needs and interactions. They seem much more straightforward than my more complicated and confusing relationships with women. Plus, they are fun. I love their spontaneity and adventurous spirits.
Throughout my life, I have sought out male-dominated arenas and industries. As a ski and snowboard journalist, I would often travel long distances to remote locations with all-male crews and endure the awkwardness and discomfort of a dynamic that was not familiar to any of us — not a sister, a girlfriend or a wife. Still, they never quite knew what to do about me.
And I never really knew how to overcome the dynamic with them, either. There was the occasional flirtation, a crush or two and the occasional slip-up when I’d trip over a banana peel and accidentally end up in bed with someone. And I always regretted it. What felt like power initially was precisely what took my power away.
I also learned to be extremely tolerant of men, choosing to ignore the kind of innuendo that could get a man fired today, simply because I wanted to be part of the boy’s club.
It took a lot of mistakes and stumbling around to understand I could never be part of their world, not really. It took more than a decade trying to fight my way up the ladder at the magazine where I worked to understand I’d hit the glass ceiling and watched one man after the other get promoted over me, even when they had less experience and education. More than once, I tolerated being berated by a male colleague who lashed out in one way or another, once so severely that someone who overheard the interaction reported it to human resources. The following day, I was called into a meeting and gently asked if I wanted to file an official sexual harassment complaint. I did not.
The fact remains, most women are not given the same opportunities or compensation as men. There are ongoing efforts to change this, but as the old saying goes, we have a long way to go, baby. And earning the respect of men is another challenge entirely.
These are things only women understand.
That’s why when I sat in my living room and watched Harris’ speech, I understood at a primal level the strength required to rise to this level. Here is a woman who, against all odds, built her career brick by brick, step by step. She ascended the ranks in her field, each time breaking boundaries.
Her career as a prosecutor was inspired by a desire to help a neighbor who was sexually abused. She got her law degree, then became a district attorney and worked her way up to attorney general for the state of California. Then she became a senator, then vice president and now the presidential nominee. As she said, her only client has always been the American people.
This is a person who is extraordinarily qualified to take on the role as president, even if she was hurtled headlong into the nomination with little warning or time to prepare a campaign. This is a person who understands the challenges I have faced in my life and who has the ability to make a difference at a pivotal time.
The way she stepped up to this unprecedented moment was mind-blowing. She spoke with an ease and grace you don’t often see in politicians. It felt authentic — not like she was reading from a teleprompter. She was confident and powerful and crystal clear in her message. She crushed it.
Maybe that’s why I was confused when no one seemed to notice or care. I thought we would all be hugging and jumping up and down, embracing each other with tears rolling down our cheeks like we just won the grand prize on a game show.
Maybe the world hasn’t changed — at least not yet.
