I wasn’t planning to vote for Sen. Harris, and now I might never do so. But more than ever, I find myself returning to the idea of stories, and how intimately they shape my identity as an Indian-American woman. I think about brown mothers who leave home to build better lives for their daughters — and brown daughters who must now translate that precious gift of opportunity into impact. I think about how my mother is sometimes hesitant about my outspoken politics: of what will happen if I go out on a limb and my campaign fails. I want to remind her that her own mother must have felt the same way, when she went out on a limb and boarded a plane to America. I know that if I run for office, my story won’t be complete without her in it.