“Service is the rent we pay for the privilege of living on this earth.”

― Shirley Chisholm

I roughly remember when I first learned about Shirley Chisholm. I think it was my first year in undergrad and I was in a women’s studies or political science class when she came up. Before that, I had never known that an African-American woman had ever run as a presidential candidate for a major party. Let alone one with a coifed hairdo of pure 1960s joy, cat-eye glasses, and voice meant to cut directly to the point. Shirley was what we in this here black community reverently call a “gangsta”. 

Seeing her images for the first time made young adult Grace feel something deep inside, she moved my spirit and made me believe I could one day be like her. You see, when I was about 9 or 10, I decided upon my future career options. They were as follows: I wanted to be an archeologist who discovered a new culture/race/species of humans and call them Gracians (very orginal, I know); dig up some long lost dino cousin and name them Graceousaurs (you catching this pattern?), and become the first black, female Vice-President of the United States of America. 

Once I set my sights on those goals, I did everything I could to reach them. I inhaled books about reptiles, lizards, dinosaurs, and the time periods they lived. I began to search for artifacts in the yard, ask questions about our Akan ancestors, decipher our ancient writing systems, and inquire about the orientation of the universe, lastly, I started training to become a political phenom. I ran for class office, student body office, I went to politics camps, I reread the Articles of Confederation, looked for books about the evolution of policy. 

I remember when I was 17 years old and in Washington, D.C. I had just spoken in a mock Congress on the floor of the house and I was on a politically induced high. My remarks had gotten a standing ovation from my party and afterward, a few aides commented on my natural presence on the floor. I had reached literal Nirvana. Another student attending the policy program asked me what I saw in my future, and I naively told them of my goal to ascend to the highest place of power in all the land. I knew I couldn’t be president because I am a naturalized citizen, but I thought that a second-place post was still awesome. All I remember from that day is how that young white man looked me in both my retinas and asked me if I believed in that dream enough to die for it. I was shook. DIE….like a real death?!? He gently reminded me that our nation was not ready for a woman and a BLACK-AFRICAN-IMMIGRANT woman at that to take the helm. He insisted that death would be a very likely outcome if I flew so close to the sun. I knew he was right and although I held on to my convictions, that dream withered and died on the happiest day of my political life. 

Everywhere I looked, the path to the Oval Office was lined with old, white men. I didn’t see a face that even remotely resembled mine. You know, it’s hard to believe in your dreams, imagine what you can become when it has never been a part of your reality. I knew that what I wanted was a long shot, and the world reinforced that it was just plain ol’ impossible. Until the day that I saw that image of Shirley Chisholm and heard her name. She was like a beacon out in the ocean -- a lighthouse calling me home. I know that I wasn’t the only one. Shirley experienced true terror in her pursuit of visibility. Yet, she never apologized for taking up space. I still hear her words on the days I feel most discouraged: “If they don't give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair.” 

Our democracy has been built on the very backs of black women, and it has been we who have continued to bear witness, speak truth to powers that continue to deny our humanity. Yet, in each other, we see the light of truth and it burns bright in our glory. Thank you, Ms. Chisholm. You have changed the very trajectory of my life and this country. I got my chair and I’m taking a seat.

Author’s Note:

Grace Ewura-Esi Andrews is a digital creator, storyteller, producer, and writer. Empathy is her way of life. Check out more thought provoking posts from Grace on her blog: A Sprinkling of Grace and follow her on the socials - @a.sprinkling.of.grace on IG and @GraceEwuraEsi on Twitter!