The primaries are over and California has made one certain decision: For the first time in 30 years, the Golden State will not send a woman to the Senate.
Welcome to Women's History Month 2024, where progress even in California seems like finding tampons in a public bathroom, then realizing they're the non-poop kind.
For those who aren't happily following the election results, it looks like either Adam Schiff or Steve Garvey will be joining Alex Padilla as our representatives in the upper house of Congress.
No hatred for any of them. Clearly, gender shouldn't be the deciding factor in who we vote for, despite what the “no balls scratching” guy in a certain MSNBC video might think.
But in an era of eroding gender rights, this does not stop.
Especially when you add to it that leadership in the state Legislature has gone entirely to the Y chromosome. A few weeks ago, former Senate President Toni Atkins (D-San Diego), who in 2018 became the first woman to ever hold that position, resigned over limits State, and gave it to the very capable Mike McGuire (D-Healdsburg). This leaves McGuire and Assemblyman Robert Rivas in power.
Atkins was the only woman—an eccentric woman at that—to hold both of the highest offices in the legislature. Her leadership was marked by bipartisanship, the strength and the wisdom that only an Appalachian lesbian could muster in a place known for both intense and petty rivalries.
If you don't know Atkins' backstory, it's a lot like Dolly Parton's story – a smart but poor kid in a cabin in the woods, no running water, few prospects, and a big heart.
She has determination, as they say, and she doesn't keep it to herself. Atkins made sure other women had access to power, giving them leadership positions on key committees and helping them move up.
“Tony has had more arrows in his chest than we will ever know,” recently-elected Sen. Aisha Wahab (D-Hayward) told me, but she is “still willing to include you even if you are seen as the other.”
Now, of course, Atkins is running for governor — trying to become the first woman to hold that office in California (like Lt. Gov. Eleni Kounalakis and former Comptroller Betty Yee).
Which brings me to the real point of this column.
It's not about the number of women in power. It's quality.
Fortunately, California has quality, the kind of women who don't just fight to win, but fight for change.
You won't find many Marjorie Taylor Greens carrying Jewish space lasers around the Golden State — at least, in office.
Instead, you'll find Buffy Weeks, the Democrat from Oakland — who in 2020 broke the boundaries of motherhood four weeks after a C-section, bringing her newborn daughter to the Assembly floor to vote when her colleagues refused to let her do so remotely.
“What am I going to do, leave her at home?” She recently scoffed when I asked her about it.
You'll find Karen Bass – the first black woman to serve as mayor of Los Angeles, and the first black woman to serve as speaker of the legislature in any state, not just California.
Atkins told me she was one of the first people to reach out to her when she became the speaker herself, and told Atkins she knows what it feels like to be the only woman in the room.
“We're still friends today,” Atkins said.
You'll find women like Wahab, the first Muslim and Afghan American to be elected to the state Senate. She grew up in foster care after losing her parents (her mother died when she was young, her father was killed in a robbery).
These early experiences made her acutely aware of the connection between generational trauma and public policy, and the belief that “there is no point in wasting time, power, and privilege on fear.”
You'll find veterans like Nancy Skinner (D-Berkeley), who in her spare time from justice reform and child protection on social media has joined with her colleagues to change what it means to be a woman in the Legislature, because, as it is, “we have some “Catching up to do.”
About a decade ago, the few women under the dome — fewer than two dozen at the time — decided they wanted to accelerate the pace of catch-up, and set about electing more women, and not just women of their own party or background.
So the Women's Caucus, of which Skinner was a formidable member, began not only recruiting other women to run, but vetting candidates to make sure they could win. This doesn't mean gatekeeping a particular species, just making sure it's “viable,” Skinner told me.
Money, my dear.
The caucus began helping candidates with fundraising guidance and support — even from skeptical donors who were still more comfortable with cigars than children.
Because before the vote there is the campaign, and if you can't pay for it, you can't win. Men did not want to give money to women because they did not believe they could win, a circular logic that kept women on the sidelines.
“Whether it was conscious or not, there was kind of a bias that female candidates couldn't raise money,” Skinner said.
But women like Skinner and her caucus see the possibility of continuing differently from the establishment. This has led not only to an increase in the number of women in positions, but also to the diversity of women.
If we move forward 15 years, the impact of this intentional focus of women's caucus is clear.
There are currently a record number of women in the state Legislature, 50 out of a total of 120 potential positions. That's about 42% women, in a state where half the population is female.
Organizations like Emily's List use the same approach to make sure female candidates have money, and across the country, women continue to rise almost equally.
However, other states fared better than California. Nevada, believe it or not, is the only state with a female-majority legislature. Thirty-two states have elected women governors, sometimes more than once.
And almost everywhere, it remains controversial to show up with a child, or to be a woman with a wife, or in some places, even — as Missouri recently proposed — to show your shoulders.
“It's great to see,” Atkins says of California's progress and women's progress in general.
Still, “a room doesn't always look like we belong in it.”
