An Election Eve Tribute

From one daughter to another

I bought this bracelet shortly after my dad died and have worn it every day since. Because even though he and my mom are now both gone, I am still very much their daughter. As an only child, I am the only one to carry that mantle. In fact, this part of my identity is so significant for me that I began my gravesite eulogy for my dad with this very simple sentence:

I am Marshall Zakarin’s daughter.

But I am also Arlene Zakarin’s daughter. I am the daughter of a woman who used to drive by the abortion clinic near our New York apartment and point to the protestors with the following comment:

“See those protestors? Those are the people trying to take away your rights. We’re not going to let them do that.”

I am the daughter of parents who would get political questionnaires in the mail and fill them out at the dinner table so I could contribute my thoughts. The daughter of parents who drove me to protests, let me skip school to go to pro-choice marches in DC. Parents who refused to attend a meeting with the principal when I got into trouble at school for a political action.

I am the daughter of the woman who convinced me to apply for the joint BA/Master of Social Work program at my university “just to see if I would get in”. You know “to keep my options open”. I resisted, and then finally did it just to humor her.

Punch line: I got in. And I did the program.

My mom died over ten years ago, and after she died I got into the pattern of speaking with my dad every day. When I was tapped to lead the state gun violence prevention coalition, no one was more excited than him. He had a hard time wrapping his head around what I would actually DO in that role but over time he came to understand more about it. And he loved hearing my stories about the dynamics of getting a bill passed, the speeches I would give, the community events I would attend, and the general mayhem of running a small nonprofit.

Probably nothing made him happier than seeing me quoted in the Globe or featured on TV news coverage. Okay, I am lying. Nothing made him happier than seeing how his grandchildren were impacting the world.

And nothing radicalized him more than thinking about policies that would potentially harm his grandchildren. From gun violence to abortion rights, he got pretty damn feisty. He also listened to his grandchildren. He listened to their political stances, he read their essays, he made copies of the writings they would send to him.

After he died we found a box filled with everything they ever did. He kept every single thing. We all burst into tears when we found it.

He also let them challenge him. He struggled with adopting more gender fluid language but he TRIED. As a 70-something year old man he made a point of attending a program about LGBTQ+ folks in the Jewish community and then told his rabbi that they needed to put a Pride flag in front of the synagogue. He died before he could see that advocacy through. But I know he spoke up because he listened to his grandchildren and wanted to challenge himself to understand the world the way they did.

This is why my identity as a daughter remains so strong, even though my parents are no longer with me. I am who I am because of them. And I love when I meet people who also feel that deep connection to their family history. Who articulate how that shaped them.

Kamala Harris says that her mother, Shyamala Gopalan Harris, taught her to “never complain about injustice, but to do something about it”. She invokes her mother’s words, “Kamala, you may be the first to do many things, but make sure you're not the last”.

I love the way she honors her mom. It so resonates with me.

So I will finish with this. On Tuesday, November 5th, Arlene and Marshall Zakarin’s daughter will head to the polls to cast a vote for Shyamala Gopalan’s daughter to become the first woman elected to the highest office in the land.

And I will do it with my bracelet on.