I wasn’t raised in a very politically-minded family. We were tofu-eating, flower-in-hair-wearing, naked-yoga-doing liberal Jews, but political conversation wasn’t a regular at the dinner table. We didn’t protest or march. We were comfortable in the semi-blissful bubble of our white, middle class privilege. We could afford—financially and racially—to choose when we engaged with politics. And that’s how I thought it went: There were the folks who were “political”, always agitating and blustery, and then there was the rest of the world.
I did not understand that everything about the way I was raised, the freedoms I took for granted as a woman, the privilege I was steeped in, was political. Even the land where I grew up in Hawai’i was newly colonized territory, where a political reckoning was—and still is—underway. I couldn’t see it because I lived under the protective film of white supremacy, designed to keep me and my experience of the world safe and easy while my fellow humans whose skin is not the color protected by our dominant culture suffered, feared, struggled. Not to say things were always easy—but that the world itself was set up for my advantage, and for the domination of others.
In 2016, post-presidential election, the divide I maintained between the “political” and “me” evaporated. I realized that maintaining that separation was a tool of white supremacy. That if I truly wanted to live in the kind of world I spoke about in dulcet tones, I had to be responsible for making it so. I had to accept that every action, every purchase, every choice was political, an opportunity to stand for the world I wanted to live in, where all humans were treated equally, with love and respect, or for the world as it was/is, filled with hate, fear, and oppression.
But a lot of the political action I wanted to take felt foreign to me. Three months ago, I began immersing myself in the project of sharing the stories of women candidates across the country on the podcast I host with Rebecca Walker—What’s Your Story? In the spirit of cultivating hope, we spoke with seven candidates and many other women making history in the political sphere. I began to expect more of myself in the political conversation, to hold myself accountable in new ways. To ask questions and practice acts of resistance that scared me.
Like canvassing—going door to door to speak with voters. I imagined it to be uncomfortable, scary even, a perfect opportunity to be yelled at by a stranger whose day you’ve interrupted. Last weekend, at 35, I went canvassing for the first time, and was reminded that the fear we hold around the idea of something is almost always greater than the thing itself. Yes, we encountered a few folks who didn’t want to speak with us, but for the most part we got to meet people who were patient, kind, and curious. Humans. Neighbors. All of us in it together.
And today, we woke up to a very different feeling country today than yesterday. To be honest, I was afraid. Afraid I’d wake up the way I did two years ago after the 2016 presidential election. But we won’t revisit that day. Instead I’ll turn to the refrain that I came to again and again that day: We have so much work to do. And you know what? We did a tiny little bit of that work over the past two years.
There is much, much work forever to be done to bring us to a place of real reckoning with the human rights violations, the racism, the sexism, the bigotry, the white supremacy our country carries. But last night, as we elected a record-breaking 100 women to Congress, as we saw black and brown women, gay women, and other minorities secure victories around the country, a tide turned. We showed our children the kind of humans we want representing us. And if I’m being really honest, I showed myself. I needed to know this was possible. Hope was possible.
I saw it first in the victories of the women we spoke with on What’s Your Story? LaShawn Williams was one of 19 black women who won judgeships in Harris County, Texas. Catalina Cruz was a DREAMer who grew up undocumented and secured a State Assembly seat in New York. Deb Haaland became one of the first Native American women in Congress, representing New Mexico’s first congressional district. Jena Griswold was elected Colorado’s first female Secretary of State—and the first Democrat to hold that office in sixty years.
These women won last night, as did so many others who contributed to a wide range of historic firsts. The first gay Native American woman in Congress. The first Black woman District Attorney of Boston. The first Muslim women elected to Congress. The youngest woman ever to join Congress. And so many more.
And while the victories are truly everything, I also want to honor the many courageous women who fought extraordinary campaigns that didn’t have the outcome they desired. Paulette Jordan, who was set to become Idaho’s first Native American, and first female, governor. Anita Malik and Felicia French, who made exceptional strides for Democratic women of color in deeply conservative Arizona. And Deedra Abboud, whose fight to represent Muslim American women in the Senate made waves in that same state.
In my own small way, I relearned hope over these past months. I interrogated the places in myself I did not think of as “political”, the parts of myself that did not believe I could make a difference. Do you see those spaces in yourself? I urge you to ask yourself who robbed you, your heart, of that agency. And if you think it’s too late to make a difference, know that it’s not.
We’re only just beginning. We have so much work to do.
Oh yes—and lest we forget we need physical sustenance, I present to you the holiday side dish that will steal hearts and wow mouths everywhere. You could make the base with sweet potatoes, yams, or any winter squash you like. They’re mashed until creamy, then enfolded with crispy shallots and olive oil, and topped with perfectly pan-fried mushrooms and thyme.
This excellent side could also be transformed into a brunch or dinner main with some sautéed greens and an egg on top. Or let it be its own star in the Kale & Caramel Vegetarian Thanksgiving Feast.
CREAMY ROASTED SQUASH WITH CRISPY MUSHROOMS (VEGAN).
Ingredients
ROASTED SQUASH MASH
- 1 medium red kuri, kabocha, butternut, or pumpkin squash (about 4 pounds), about 3 cups mashed
- 1/4 cup minced shallots
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1/4 tsp salt, plus more to taste
CRISPY THYME MUSHROOMS
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 tablespoon thyme leaves
- 8 ounces fresh mushrooms, like oyster, maitake, beech
- fresh cracked pepper, to taste
Instructions
CREAMY ROASTED SQUASH
- Preheat the oven to 425º. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
- Slice squash in half, scoop out seeds, and cut into 2- to 3-inch crescents. Place on the baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil to coat all sides. Sprinkle with sea salt. Roast for 35-45 minutes, until tender and beginning to brown.
- In a large frying pan, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil and shallots over medium heat. Sauté, stirring frequently, until the shallots are golden and crispy. Be careful—they'll burn quickly.
- Once the shallots are golden, remove from heat. Scoop out the shallots with a spoon and transfer them to a small bowl, leaving the oil in the pan.
- Once the squash has roasted and cooled just a bit, scoop out the soft flesh into a bowl and discard the skins (or snack on them, a personal fave). Add 1/4 teaspoon sea salt, and a teaspoon or two of the shallot oil. Mash with a potato masher or fork, until smooth. Stir in most of the crispy shallots and any oil with them, leaving a few to top the dish. Add more salt to taste. Cover and set aside in a warm place.
CRISPY MUSHROOMS
- Clean and dry mushrooms, and separate them into small clusters that can lie flat in the pan.
- Add an additional tablespoon of oil to the frying pan, and add the thyme leaves. Turn heat to medium, and let the oil warm for about a minute. Then add the mushrooms in a single layer, and sprinkle with sea salt.
- Let the mushrooms sautée until beginning to turn golden brown and a bit crisp at the edges, then use tongs or chopsticks to flip—about five minutes on each side. Once both sides are tender, juicy, and crispy brown in spots, remove from heat.
- To serve, warm the creamy squash if needed, and spread in a thick layer on a plate. Top with the mushrooms, and drizzle any remaining olive oil and thyme on top. Finish with the remaining crispy shallots, a few leaves of fresh thyme, and freshly cracked pepper to taste. Serve immediately—or put in an oven-proof dish, cover with foil, and keep warm in the oven.
