Four years ago, I cried watching the Presidential Inauguration. Literally cried. I felt overwhelmed, scared and defeated. Last Wednesday, I cried again watching the Presidential Inauguration. Crying with relief, excitement and exhaustion. I can finally breathe.
I didn’t expect to cry. Dancing and laughing, sure. Elated for the transfer of power and that we would, once again, have an adult in the White House. I didn’t expect to be viscerally feeling the moment as much as I did.
But there was Kamala.
Before President Joe Biden’s and Vice President Kamala Harris’ (so good to write those words!) Inaugurations, I was excited, but didn’t particularly think about Harris’ historic position. I wasn’t fazed when so many women ran for the Democratic nomination, nor when Harris was chosen as Biden’s running mate. At this point, there are so many prominent and incredibly brilliant female members of Congress, governors, mayors, and other politicians, like Keisha Lance Bottoms, Muriel Bowser and Stacey Abrams, that it felt normal and inevitable to see women in positions of power.