Standing lost in the aisle, trying to find a seat as close to the front as possible, I'm being passed by Assemblymember Ted Lieu and his wife. Clearly, the front two rows are slim pickings, so I start to move back towards the back, being hustled along by the police officer who is attempting to maintain some semblance of order on the Mezzanine level. I find an open seat (thank goodness for being alone) and grab it. As I'm looking around, I realize that Former Governor Gray Davis is in the aisle now, shaking hands with different people. His wife waves him over and he takes a seat in front of me. She tells him that the seats were offered to them by some other people and they wave to say Thank You. They're waving to Phil Angelides and his posse.
It's a surreal experience to say the least.
I'm surrounded by the creme de la creme of California politics at the California Democratic Presidential Primary Debates. If it weren't for the postcard sized badge hanging from my neck, I would surely be kicked out in a heartbeat.
Former Governor in the front.
Wannabe Governor to the right.
Tribal leaders in the back.
From the corner of my eye I see Richard Schiff (Toby from the West Wing) taking his seat.
What the hell am I doing here?
The Kodak Theater is a strange place to have a oh-my-god-so-that's-it moments in life, but what the hey... I'll take it where I can get it.
I've never been able to get over that "What the hell am I doing here?" moment, wherever I have been.
I'm deeply rooted to what my life, and particular my parents' life, was like. It's strange to give my mom updates on my life and tell her that I was in a meeting with some hot-shot in the business/government world or that I'm going to Washington DC, AGAIN.
My parents immigrated when they were in their early 20s. My dad came first to work for a year or so to earn enough money for my mom and my brother to fly to the states. Their immigration circumstances were extremely fortunate. My dad had an aunt who was already in the states, so he and his brothers were able to take advantage of the Family provision and all come over together with their parents. My dad took a job as a janitor and earned enough to bring my mom and my brother over. There was no dangerous boat journey, or false documentation, or border crossing. My parents were the right people at the right time with the right family members.
For the early part of my life, my mom was a garment worker and my dad was a janitor. I used to go with my dad on the weekends to help him clean these huge office buildings. I would sneak a candy out of the receptionist's jar and hope that my dad didn't notice. My dad also did some minor jobs, doing upkeep for some apartment buildings. We would share the work-- I would clean the windows on the lower half of the entrance doors and my dad would do the high parts. My mom worked from home because my brother and I were still too legally young to stay at home alone. She set up shop in her bedroom, withi large sheets of clear plastic covering her bed and furniture, because the dust would sometimes be thick after a day's work. Sometimes my brother and I would sit with her and help her fold the pieces she made to be bagged up and sent back to the factory. She used to wake me up at 4 in the morning, bundle me up in my blanket, and put me in the passenger seat so she could deliver her week's work and use the carpool lane. She would have to get back in time to make sure my brother was ready for school and without the carpool lane, she would be stuck in rush hour traffic.
My childhood is marked with strange memories.
I remember refusing to get in the car when my dad came to pick me up because he had to borrow an employee's junky car. I was in middle school and I was too embarassed to admit that my family wasn't rich.
I remember sitting in their factory, with the lights only half on, as their friends streamed in to help unstitch the hems of clothes that were sewed incorrectly.
There were weeks where my brother and I didn't see our parents, because they would get up earlier than we woke up and came in close to midnight. Those were the hard times when they were still trying to figure things out.
All these things come to mind when I'm sitting in a room like yesterday.
I'm a child of immigrants.
My father will be voting in his first election since his naturalization last year.
My mother is still waiting to be processed as a citizen.
I went to public schools.
I am an Asian American.
I am a woman.
I am young.
None of these things screams "POLITICS"
If anything, they say that I shouldn't be in the room-- that I shouldn't be taken seriously.
I have difficulty getting past this. No matter how accomplished I am, I will always feel out of place, that I will be asked to leave because I don't belong.
Perhaps this is why I have such a fondness for Obama. I disagree with him on some very core policy issues, which makes it difficult to throw all of my support behind him. But then I look at who he is.
He is the child of an immigrant.
He came up in a single-parent household.
He has half-brothers and sisters... not your idea of the perfect American household.
He admitted to using drugs.
He is black.
He is biracial.
And he sure is skinny.
He doesn't fit the mold in the least bit.
If there is a chance that this country will allow a man like that into its highest position of leadership, perhaps someone like me can sit in a room like yesterday and not have to feel out of place.
If there is a chance that people can support a candidate with his background, it means that there just may be a fundamental shift in how we see people, how we see leadership, how we see... everything.
It's not him that I'm supporting. It's the idea of him. It's the idea that this country is capable of changing itself after 200 years of stupidity and blind judgement.
With all of this, I'm learning what I have to change about myself.
It has nothing to do with confidence or social grace. Those things I can manage pretty well.
My next step, and perhaps my REAL new year's resolution, is to learn how to get those nagging voices out of my head that tell me that I'm not supposed to be here, doing what I'm doing.
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