A Reflection from 1/6/21: The Intersection of Identity and the Workplace

It has been over a week since the events of January 6th when the U.S. Capitol was stormed by domestic terrorists, encouraged, unapologetically, by the sitting President of the United States. Never in my life, did I think that as a country, we would reach the bottom of the facist barrel, but let’s reflect. I’ve wrestled through so many emotions this week, from anger, to disbelief, to crying on the floor, to fatigue that is so numbing that I don’t even feel anything anymore. I’m sure that these feelings are being felt by every American to some degree, but for those of us working in politics, there is no escaping the events that have rocked our world in this past week. 

As cliché as it sounds, working for the U.S. Senate has been a dream of mine since I met Senator Murray (D-WA) during a Capitol tour as a sophomore in high school. I was moved to tears when I shook her hand because it was so powerful to meet the woman behind the myth. She started out as a preschool teacher in the 70s and when she took the opportunity to run for public office, she was written off as just “a mom in tennis shoes” by her political opponent. She not only won that election, but also embraced the term and became the “every-woman” that would always fight for the little guy on the big stage. This message resonated with me because as the child of immigrants, I always felt like my “Americanness” was conditional and that I would never be fully accepted as part of this country because the color of my skin would supersede any form of citizenship. When I was hired for a full-time position as a first-gen college graduate with Senator Murray after two internships in her office, I could finally say: I had made it. That the years of throwing away the spam and egg lunches packed by my grandmother because I was afraid it was “too ethnic” was worth it. That the years of being “jokingly” called a chink or fresh of the boat by my peers had all led up to this moment of my version of the American Dream. 

That is why the summer that I worked in Washington D.C. when I was able to call the hallowed halls of the Capitol my home was so impactful to me. As a perk of the internship, I went on a Senate floor tour and stood in the very place where history was made. I still vividly remember the powerful stillness of that space and how sacred it felt to me. A space where then-Senator Obama carved his name into the desk next to my boss.’ A space meant for passionate debate and compromise. A space for progress for the country. And to see white supremacists deface that very room because their white privilege allowed them to storm the Capitol (to contest legitimate election results) without getting shot or even arrested by the police, shattered my heart completely. 

So how do we move on from this? I’m not going to pretend that I know the answers, but what I do know is that my identity as a woman of color in this country will always be a part of my motivation to do this work. I know that it is important to give myself grace and to be confused and upset by the events of January 6th. But most crucially, I know that it is vital to use this energy and put it in volunteering with local elections and having hard conversations with family members because there will always be more work in the good fight for a better future for the generations to come. My biggest hope is that my children never have to feel like their dreams are unattainable because they don’t see themselves represented in their desired fields. There is still a lot of good in the world, but all of that will be overshadowed if we let the seditionists and insurrections win by thinking that they have broken us. We are stronger and driven by justice and progress, rather than hate and misinformation. So let us look forward to the many victories to celebrate in the coming future. Dream big, fight hard!