"I Won't Be The Last": The Equity Message You Shouldn't Miss in VP-Elect Kamala Harris' Speech

I didn't expect to cry.

Especially since I had watched the Biden-Harris victory speeches eight hours after everyone started tweeting about it. After spending the week on the ground in Philadelphia, I flew out of election drama to New Orleans--a city which always reminded me that I was American and that joy was allowed. Which is why after I watched "President-Elect" flash across my temporary bed early Saturday morning, I wrapped up my conference call, called some organizer girlfriends in the "Big Easy," and invited them to brunch. As with Vegas, what happens in the French Quarter stays in the French Quarter, but looking back, I don't recall us speaking much about politics at all. What I can share is that with each drink Will, the bartender, poured, we toasted: to our new ancestors taken too soon due to COVID or police violence, unseen organizers, essential workers, postal service professionals, and brave protesters. I was content having that moment of community fill my Saturday. So much so that I went to sleep without turning on the tv in my Airbnb. I crashed. Buzzed and content.

When I woke up in the middle of the night, I was shocked how much energy I had and also how many of my friends were still up, too. Like a true older millennial, I properly caught up on all my socials, added my commentary on all things from Van Jones to Dave Chappelle on Saturday Night Live, and ultimately felt compelled, even obligated, to finally watch our newly elected leaders, Joe Biden and Kamala Harris accept their prize.

What I expected to feel was a moment of ceremony and celebration. What I didn't expect was the overwhelming visibility of not just Black women's leadership, but also Black women's labor. And of our belief in possibilities, even when the odds are against us.

Symbolically in all white to represent the centennial of the Women's Suffrage Movement, VP-Elect Kamala Harris properly acknowledged that women "paved the way for this moment." Honoring the road of her immigrant mother, Shyamala Gopalan Harris, made me think of my immigrant mother, Chijiago Bernice Ike, who also tells me often how she, too, couldn't imagine all her children would accomplish when she arrived in America, but like Kamala, mommy is still my best example of persevering, even when you're the "other." Several observers have well-documented that these personal moments helped shaped Leader Harris into the woman she is today.

The moment, however, that struck me was the intentional calling out of the racial and ethnic diversity that make up the women umbrella: "So, I'm thinking about...the generations of women -- Black women. Asian, White, Latina and Native American women throughout our nation's history." And I exhaled. And a tear rolled down.

Finally.

We finally have a leader in the highest and most visible office that sees us all as women, while also respecting the fact that we also are differently positioned in the United States. From the fight to equal pay to maternal mortality, race is still the single most influential factor that determines a woman's quality of life in America. As an equity strategist, far too often, I have witnessed the erasure of so many women's journeys--mine included--by others too afraid to acknowledge intersectional existences and opting for safer blanket words like "women," "BIPOC," or "people of color." While I recognize the desire for especially those in dominant spaces of privilege to rush towards equality and unity, we can't all get there without equity. And equity is only achieved via awareness of truth, declaration of that truth, and a commitment to act in light of that truth.

Part of that truth is the acknowledgement of the pain of being ignored while improving the lives of others. In a dramatic electoral outcome that heavily relied on the grassroots and relational organizing of Black people, it was appropriate for VP-Elect Harris to use this moment to highlight that Black women "are too often overlooked," yet "so often prove that they are the backbone of our democracy." Society has normalized how hard Black women work, period. So much so, that many of us who are members of this sacred tribe have an intimate relationship with labor out of necessity to survive. The DNA of our society is built on the backs and bellies of enslaved African women, and while other women fought to be seen as "equal" as white men and not be limited to domestic duties, Black women have always had to work for spaces outside of their homes and communities, with no rest. This historical erasure can easily be dismissed by the touting of a few success stories often tied to capitalist or artistic achievement, often elevated as "progress," instead of looking at the data that suggests that for our over-representation in the labor market, it will take about 30years for Black women to receive the fair economic wage they should be receiving today. Without this baseline knowledge, even self-identified allies can miss how to properly advocate for us. It is part of the reason I found it inexcusable during a recent virtual panel that an Asian-American woman who claimed to specialize in gender studies stated she had never heard of the discrimination Black women activists faced during the Women's Suffrage Movement (she also proceeded to say she was "shocked" because she went to a "top-ranked university." Another conversation for another day). Kamala, for me, simply and accurately stated a hard truth: our successes are connected to the ongoing suffrage of Black women. In democracy as well as in the workplace.

But visibility and representation, alone, do not qualify as equity either. Yes, it is important to acknowledge that Kamala Harris is the first woman, the first Black, the first Black woman, the first Indian-American, the first Indian-American woman to serve at Vice President of the United States. But we must be careful not to romanticize, or even tokenize, first experiences, especially for positions of leadership. A major flaw of inclusion practices is looking for what I call "the exceptional Negro." Who is the exceptional Negro? The top candidate from the top school. The person from a limited pool of safe "diverse" networks. The one whose references make it clear that they won't rock the boat. Or the one who will likely be positioned to be the "diversity" spokesperson on all the organization's multicultural and equity topics. This common behavior influences the candidate pool--especially for Black and Brown candidates--who often have to not only demonstrate their uniqueness, but at times be open to or perform that they are open to their uniqueness being exploited and spread across the organization's laterals, at any time. But spreading wide also means you're spreading thin, and such practices lead to burn-out, dissatisfaction and ultimately high turnover.

An important solution lies in a statement VP-Elect made during her speech:"I won't be the last." Companies, organizations and systems need to intentionally and aggressively embrace the "critical mass" theory successfully argued in the Supreme Court case of Grutter v. Bollinger as part of their equity, diversity and inclusion strategies. In addition to research articulating the impact significant representation of diverse talent has on culture and production, adopting a "critical mass" framework, especially where racial and ethnic diversity is severely anemic, demonstrates a mature understanding of how our society is designed to limit the number of opportunities for marginalized communities--and also shows an investment to one's personal physical, psychological and physiological well-being. When designing the national teacher recruitment strategy NYC MenTeach, I braided the best practices from psychologists and wellness practitioners who specialized in the harm of being the "only" or the "few" in work settings. Too many organizations are guilty of overly biased processes (even the ones claimed to be "subjective" and "bias free"), that specifically are designed to bring in a couple people of color at a time, followed by a lag in "diverse hires," and only ramped up when too many people of color leave, or when outside pressure forces an action.

That ain't gonna cut it.

Building a culture where candidates from diverse experiences can thrive without being unicorns doesn't mean just responding to public outcries or buying books from Amazon. It means a real investment in acquiring the right team of advisors and specialists that know more than you about assessing the state of equity within a culture, occupational safety, and inclusive leadership. It's super important that accountability is built in to ensure that decision-makers, including HR personnel, are being responsible for their recruitment logic models and promotion practices. And a space that doesn't contemplate conflict on the front end is one designed to be unhealthy, especially for underrepresented talent. Spaces to anonymously share friction, harmful actions and unwarranted behavior must be installed for safety to be real.

I've been in and out of politics for over a decade and am proud that I've helped build spaces that prioritize equity in policymaking, though I'd be lying if I didn't say that most of those spaces were built out of necessity, not charity. In between building social enterprises, I've survived far too many employers that wanted more credit for their benign intent than their harmful impact. VP-Elect Kamala Harris' presence and words made me believe--perhaps for the first time--that on a federal level, there will be specific policies and practices that seek to confront the true experiences of all women, and especially non-White women. This belief is one I hope translates beyond government, and into other systems and organizations.

Mass equity and equality is possible if we commit to not making our first and few trailblazers of color be our last.

Ifeoma Ike is an attorney, policy expert and executive thought partner. She is the Founder & CEO of Pink Cornrows, a data-informed, people-centered equity and culture firm which supports leaders across sectors develop the right mindset to design strategies to achieve optimal inclusion, fairness and justice. She is a former Capital Hill staffer, NYC Mayor's Office executive staffer, and former policy advocate at the Innocence Project.