On the evening of November 7th, bright fireworks were bursting against the dark blue sky blanketing my neighborhood, above hundreds of celebrating Americans in cities like Washington D.C., New York City and Philadelphia, and even across the world in the capital of England, all celebrating the presidential win of Joe Biden. In my own room, I danced amongst the joy of Biden voters, feeling relief and hope. 

But the moment I felt like I had woken up from four years of dreaming was when my laptop displayed Vice President elect Kamala Harris. Dressed in a white suffragist suit, Harris made history as the first Black, Indian-American, child of immigrants, woman to ever be elected Vice President. She acknowledged women in her speech, and black women in particular. She told the nation of her Indian mother. She made mothers and daughters cry and dance. She represented me, my mom, and my friends as a woman of color in front of the whole world. She reassured us by making the promise, “I may be the first woman to hold this office. But I won’t be the last.”

I may not agree with all of Harris’s past policies or even some of her current ones. But Harris is proof. Proof that even after 48 white male vice presidents, there is possibility of change. Even after a president who has torn down the safety and comfort of so many minorities, there can be a revolutionary change and room for hope in the political world stage. That girls like me can become strong and powerful leaders. That we’re allowed to have dreams and be ambitious. That we can have faith in our futures. And that the world is finally starting to listen to us.