Election Reflection
I stood on the steps in front of the United States Capitol, sandwiched in between my sister and brother, and smiled broadly as I squinted into the bright spring sun. Dad snapped the photo of us on his Nikon camera. My blond hair matched my favorite t-shirt, the one that said in bold black letters “Women belong in the House . . . and the Senate!” When Mom helped me pick out that shirt, she said one day I should run for office. She said there might be a woman president in her lifetime. I think I wore it at least once a week when we lived in Virginia.
In the spring of 1980, Dad was working for the Pentagon for just half a year and our family packed up and moved to Alexandria, Virginia. The east coast experience was a brief and exciting change for me, a fifth grade California girl. There were long lines at gas stations and protests about the US hostages in Iran. I remember yellow ribbons that were tied around oak trees, weekly trips to visit the Smithsonian Museums, and my new best friend also named Karen whose family was from North Carolina. She always signed her name with a paw print next to it. She wore her UNC light blue sweatshirt all the time, a Tarheel through and through. We haven’t kept in touch. I wonder if she still wears a Tarheel sweatshirt. I wonder if she remembers me and my yellow t-shirt about where a woman’s place is.
Sometimes I have trouble remembering exact dates, or years, or even who I was with on certain occasions. A wedding, a party, a vacation, a funeral, a job interview, the first day of school, and elections. But I can almost always remember what I was wearing on that occasion. Sometimes I can even remember what other people wore too. Of course, photos can help jog the memories.
This week I’ve been thinking about political marches, elections past and present, and outfit selections.
I pulled out my old teaching files, where I’ve collected letters and photos from my years as a first and second grade teacher. In the stack was a newspaper clipping. The image saved from a front page article showed me surrounded by my crew of first grade students holding their banners and signs as we encouraged people to vote in the 1996 presidential election. We had marched up and down Pier Avenue, proudly dressed in our red, white, and blue outfits while cars honked at us and waved with encouraging thumbs up. We marched all the way to the Hermosa Beach Public Library and listened to a story about the importance of the right to vote.
On election day 2020, I received a text with a photo from the 2004 election. It was from a parent I haven’t spoken to in a while. A parent whose four children had all been students in my class at some point. The photo showed one of her twins, a student in my 2nd grade class at the time, holding up her “Go Vote!” sign. Ponytails with red ribbons, blue jeans, white sweaters, hats and smiles. A memory, the parent texted, that still stands strong today. She said that those kids have become active caring citizens of our communities. They protest, attend marches, and yes, they now vote. They are neuroscientists, environmentalists, engineers, doctors, business entrepreneurs, and even musicians.
When my two daughters were young, I’d take them to the polling place at 7am to come with me and watch me vote. Sometimes they marched with my class for our Promote the Vote field trips. In 2008, on election day, my husband took a photo of the three of us standing on our front porch, wearing matching blue t-shirts sent from my Mississippi friend that read “Obama Y’all”. A few years later, on a typically cold, grey day June in 2010 our garage was cleared out and used as a polling place for a primary election. I can’t remember what I wore that day, but I do remember having to peel off all the extra ‘I Voted!’ stickers from the girls’ sweatshirts before running the laundry that night.
Prior to our walk in the first LA Women’s March in January 2017, the girls carefully selected their attire the night before the march. Charlotte, a freshman in high school, picked out the t-shirt she cherished from Hamilton — A Musical. Sophie, a senior in high school at the time, proudly wore her new Stanford baseball cap and her bright yellow Northface jacket. I went with the most practical, nondescript black leggings and jacket I could find. And my favorite running/marching shoes.
In February 2019, a few months after the momentous #metoo movement erupted into everyday life, I attended an Emily’s List event with my college roomie. It was a fancy luncheon at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills. I curled my hair, wore my bright red blouse, black capri pants, heels and lipstick (those last two are rarities for me!). And at the end of the luncheon each guest received a swag bag. In it was an ultra-soft blue grey t-shirt that simply read in all caps : ELECT WOMEN. That shirt became my new cozy shirt, what I would throw on at the end of the day while I cooked dinner, read a book, or laid on the couch watching tv. A year later, at the start of the quarantine in March, it morphed into my ‘go-to’ pajama top. I didn’t say it out loud, but secretly believed that my nightly devotion to the shirt’s mantra could be perhaps a way to will its message into the universe.
After the first presidential debate this fall, another college roomie sent freshly made t-shirts to our group that read: WILL YOU SHUT UP MAN? I wore it on a few trips to the grocery store and around town, unsure what the reaction would be. Had everybody seen the debate? Would they understand the reference?
On election day this year, I took a long walk along the ocean with my Biden button pinned to my black workout shirt. I took video of the waves lapping up against the shore, remembering the comment from the meditation expert I had heard earlier that morning on the news. The earth will still spin tomorrow. The waves will still crash against the sand. Progress not perfection.
As I walked, I thought for a bit about style and substance. Outfit selection and election reflections. I remembered Geraldine Ferraro’s over-sized glasses , Hillary Clinton’s headbands, and Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s iconic neckwear.
And when Senator Kamala Harris walked on stage five days after the election, being declared the first ever woman to be elected as Vice President of the United States, I nodded and smiled at the tv. There she stood dressed in her white shiny satin blouse under her crisp white blazer with her white pants and her white heels. It was a nod to the suffragettes of the 20th century who led the movement to ratify the 19th Amendment one hundred years ago.
At the grocery store the next day I saw a little girl wearing a shirt that read: A Woman’s Place is in the House . . . The White House!” and since she couldn’t see the smile under my mask, I gave her a wink and a thumbs up as we passed each other in the aisle.
