To Hope, To Dream,

That as a Black woman, I can do anything

Before female empowerment was ever a thing, I was taught that as a woman, I could do anything I set my mind to do.

Indeed, from humble beginnings, my mother became an electrical engineer and then rose to one of the highest ranks at the United Nations. She has been my undethronable role model since day one, and even before.

My mother survived despite what some would consider, almost insurmountable adversity. She lost her father when she was just a child, a very young one at that. My own father left her with five young children, and my brother with whom she had a very unique and close bond, died in traumatic circumstances at the age of 48.

Though my mother appeared to overcome all of these challenges by putting one foot in front of the other and advancing each time they happened, I knew that all these deeply painful occurrences affected her in ways I cannot even begin to comprehend.

But she forged on because that is what the women in my family do. They swim, they don’t sink, and there are often plentiful tears behind their authentic smiles and laughter.

A few years ago when I visited a therapist for the first time, upon the passing of my brother, she told me that “survival” wasn’t a natural state of being.

For me, that statement was a revelation — the fact being that I’ve never known a time in my life where I wasn’t simply in survival mode.

For me, “survival” has always been the very definition of my life.

But in all of that, my mother and grandmother taught me that neither my gender nor my ethnicity should limit my dreams or the opportunities open to me in life.

They taught me that the sky — even the universe was always within reach. I could do whatever I set my mind to. This mantra has always guided me. I can’t even envisage my life with lesser possibilities.

But when I look around me, I see so few women that look like me in senior positions.

Experience has taught me that I need to work so much more harder for society to give me these opportunities.

I may not like VP Kamala Harris’ policies, but I feel so much contentedness in seeing someone that looks like me at the top echelons of government. It’s a validation of what my mother and grandmother taught me — I can do anything.

And so yes, no matter where I am or what I do, I’m always supporting the Black woman in the room, because I need to keep believing — and now even with more resolve, because I have a responsibility as a mother of a young girl to pass on that gift of empowerment to her.

In my mind, there is no other option.

It’s for this reason that this photograph of the Justice Ketanji hearing in the US Senate this week takes on a strong emotional meaning for me. In it, we see a Black woman looking at Justice Ketanji with deep admiration and endearment.

If there was ever a time when a photograph could mean a thousand words, at least for me, this would be it — clearly.

As the spectator looks on at Justice Ketanji, you’ll not only see admiration, you’ll see respect, contentedness, and most importantly, you’ll see hope.

Hope that what my mother and grandmother instilled in me all those many moons ago — that women can accomplish whatever they set their mind to do, still holds so infinitely true.

And so I chose to keep on believing it despite all the adversity and the setbacks that I face as a Black woman.

I chose to believe that I’ll get to where I’m going — I’ll get to the place where I can truly make my mark and make a significant and positive impact on humanity as we know it.

Today more than ever, I feel that dream is within reach — I just need to persevere a little more to make it a reality.

Thank you for reading my perspective.