Last night I watched the 2024 Democratic National Convention. Michele Obama spoke most eloquently, with words describing the soul of America. She spoke about my soul, my birthright in this nation. I was impressed with every word and nuance of her speech. In these following sentences, she touched my mind in a way that changed my perspective on the difference between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump.
“Kamala has shown her allegiance to this nation, not by spewing anger and bitterness, but by living a life of service and always pushing the doors of opportunity open for others. She understands that most of us will never be afforded the grace of failing forward. We will never benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth. If we bankrupt a business, or choke in a crisis, we don’t get a second, third, or fourth chance. If things don’t go our way, we don’t have the luxury of whining or cheating others to get further ahead, we don’t get to change the rules, so we always win. If we see a mountain in front of us, we don’t expect there to be an escalator waiting to take us to the top. No, we put our heads down. We get to work. In America, we do something.”
I decided to become an adult at a young age. I knew when I was 12, I needed to rely on myself. I had parents, but they were often a hindrance rather than a support system. When I got married at 15 and had my baby three months later, my mother, a chronic alcoholic, lived with me and my husband.
Marriage wasn’t hard for me. I loved my husband, and he loved me. He was a good father and provider. We were poorish, but it was okay. We had health insurance, a paid-off car, an apartment. We had our washer and dryer, air conditioners to stave off the Detroit summers, and a big double bed bought on our Sears Revolving credit card. We paid our bills every month. We lived paycheck to paycheck and there wasn’t a penny to spare, but we were happy.
There was no childcare available for me to return to high school, so I lied about my age and took the GED at 16. I was bright, and passed with a higher score than my husband, only 3 years my senior. His family sent him to the States from Cuba when Castro came into power. They immigrated to New York and sent him to live in Detroit when the gangs in Manhattan were becoming aggressive. That’s where we met and married. We were living the American Dream.
I used to be one who would volunteer. I was ready to march for a purpose, a cause close to my heart. Back in the 60’s, that would have been for the UFW or to stop the war in Viet Nam. My Uncle Johnny, the first activist I knew, took me to all the rallies around Santa Monica until my mom and sister and I moved to Detroit. I marched in peace rallies there, when I was pregnant, until one became violent. I realized my responsibility was to my unborn child rather than a political process.
I turned 18 in 1972, just the year before a Constitutional Amendment was passed allowing 18 year olds to vote in both State and Federal elections. Naturally, I campaigned for George McGovern that year. I still have the mug I got from his campaign headquarters in West Los Angeles.
But he didn’t win. And the war continued. Friends were irreparably damaged when and if they returned from Viet Nam. Farmworkers were still sprayed with pesticides while working in the fields. I picked strawberries in Salinas between the ages of 10 and 12. I know what pesticide smells and tastes like. The world in my mind wasn’t a pretty place. Life wasn’t easy, and it didn’t look like it was going to get any easier.
I got my first job in 1973 as an index clerk for an insurance company. I made $75 a month after taxes, childcare and parking. I could drop my 3 year old off at school at 7:30 AM and if downtown LA traffic wasn’t too bad, I could make it to the sign-in sheet by 8:15 AM when they drew the red line under the last name on the page. Oftentimes I didn’t. I got off work at 4:15 and had 45 minutes to be the last parent to pick her child up from preschool. It seemed every part of my life had the red line of failure slashed across it.
I got another job that paid more, and I worked harder. I found a private school for our daughter that followed our values for a loving educational environment, attempting to stay the guilt of leaving her every day. We bought income property we could live on and became landlords. We did the maintenance and upgrades ourselves. I was thankful every day that I had my child when I was young. I still had the energy to work, be a wife and mother, a landlord, and maintenance person all in one.
But it wasn’t enough, or maybe it was too much. We separated after 8 years of marriage. The work I did adding to the family machine had to become a mainstay career. It took the fear of failure for me to make that transition. When my parents abandoned their responsibility to their children, at least they did no further harm. No one ever told me I couldn’t do anything. They never said I could, or would, but they didn’t hold me back with negativity or cruelty.
This is where the difference between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump comes in. She’s a builder, a positive force, a defender and a leader. He espouses failure, dragging people down, calling them names, and lying. Lying so much all the time that he’s got people believing they can’t do better.
I went on to create a career. I didn’t have a higher education like many of my peers. I took classes and received designations in risk and claims management. I became a claims manager at 25, and a regional branch manager at 33. I was the Director of Risk Management for a national corporation at 39. I was the first female executive director of the California Self-Insurers Association at 45 and the first female president of the National Council of Self-Insurers at 55.
Thankfully I had many more Kamala Harris’ than Donald Trumps along my way. I learned from both types, but I excelled with Harris’. I believe our country will do the same. We’ve learned a lot these past 8 years, and we can’t afford to limit ourselves, hold ourselves back, with Trump. It’s a dead end, and probably much worse. He’s a loser, trying to drag the country down with him. I won’t go willingly.
I Am We 