Who I Am Is Because of Her

I am a feminist. I support women and expect equality for us. I believe wholeheartedly that my purpose on this planet is to support and empower women.

I am this way because of my mother.

She is not a radical, Mother Earth-loving, flower child (although that would have been fun too). Instead, my mother is a steady, practical, traditional in some ways - but not in others, powerful force. She taught my sister and I that being strong and feminine are not mutually exclusive. She never gave us a ceiling for what we could accomplish. She raised us in a limitless world.

From the time I can remember she talked to us about "when" we would go to college, not "if." Because of her and our father's work and support, my sister and I became the first college graduates in our family. Our mom wanted us to get an education and knew that it was the key to us getting out of our small town to experience opportunities she never had.

As the oldest of five children, my mom learned her work ethic honest from a truck driver dad and a factory worker mom. What they lacked in material possessions paled in comparison to the abundance of family love, lessons of determination and expectations of helping others. My mom always seems to know what to do in a tough situation and I believe it's because of the values instilled in her by her incredibly hard-working parents.

I come from a long line of women who worked hard and wanted more. In the late 1940s without a car to take them to the county high school about a half hour away from her parents' home, my mom's mom went to live with her older, married sister so that she could finish high school. At that time, rarely did a woman graduate from high school in our area of rural Virginia. My grandmother did graduate and soon married my grandfather, who had only a 7th grade education before dropping out to help his family on the farm. Despite his lack of a formal education, he was a street-smart, tough worker who had a heart of gold and was especially loving to his grandchildren, great-grandchildren and even great-great grandchildren.

Actions Spoke Louder Than Words
My sister and I were taught by example. Our mom taught us there are seasons to life, and it's okay to try new things while still putting yourself and your family first. She was a stay-at-home mom for years when we were younger and then went back into the workforce and then stayed at home again when we needed her and again returned to the workforce later when the time was right for her. She was always there for us. From my Girl Scout Troop Leader to my cheerleader in the stands when I was a cheerleader on the sideline, she has always been there to support me, lead me and guide me to become the person I am. It's what I hope to be to my daughters.

I can only imagine how she must have felt as our chauffeur, shuttling us from practices to games and back home again day after day. But she never complained. She was stoic and that I know for sure is reflective of her parents' values.

She spoke to my sister and I about the importance of getting our own jobs when we were older so we could spend our own money however we saw fit before we ever thought about getting married. She understood that financial independence was an important step to female empowerment.

She taught us to stand up and make our voice heard. She not only votes, but volunteers at the polls on Election Day. She has worked every election I can remember, whether it's for the president or the county sheriff. She didn't talk to us about who she planned to vote for, only that it was important to learn about the candidates and vote since decisions are made by the people we elect. It's our obligation to participate. I find that lesson particularly valuable today on another Election Day, when she is working at the polls for at least 15 hours.

Her faith was a guiding force that greatly influenced my life. Our mother taught us about God's love. Instilling that we were each given a gift by God and that we should show that love to others. She lived the traditional role of women in Southern churches: cooking for families who had lost a loved one, teaching Sunday School classes, and leading clothing drives for the community. She and my father visited the sick in the hospital and went to - what seemed to a me as a young child  - every funeral for every person who ever died in our small town. She taught us that death is a part of life and I remember being impressed that she always knew what to say in a difficult situation. She still takes charge to plan details and help with arrangements when there is a death in our family, even with her own father.

She is, at her core, tough. She isn't overly emotional, but is giving and honest and loving. She takes care of us. She showed us what it meant to be a loving mother while teaching us to reach for our dreams.

Now, as a mother, I realize how much she sacrificed and how hard it must have been and how blessed I am to have her as my mother. I hope to teach my daughters the lessons she taught me. She may feel that she hasn't accomplished a lot in her lifetime, but I am standing here proof that every accomplishment I have is because of her and her legacy will continue with my children. Every woman I help in my professional life is helped by my mother. I show them the grace I was given and work to support and empower them because that's what she did for me.

I am who I am because of my mother.

The Day That Changed This Hokie Forever

April 16, 2007

It's a day that I will never forget. Every Hokie remembers where they were that day when they heard the news and has a unique story about how they were affected. This is mine.

I was working about 45 minutes away from Blacksburg. It was a normal day at the office when we began to hear that something had happened at VT. We heard there had been a shooting in a dorm, West AJ, that morning, but no other details. Then as the hours passed, we heard there was a shooting in Norris Hall and at least 2 people were dead.

Then 8. Then 10. Then 20. TWENTY.

Then VT President Charles Steger held a news conference to announce there are 33 confirmed casualties, including the shooter.

THIRTY-THREE.

33 people. dead. on a campus where I lived for four years. where I met and fell in love with the man who is now my husband. where I found myself and realized the world is so much bigger than the small town where I grew up. the campus where I became an adult and made life-changing, amazing memories.

I remember sitting at my desk, crying. One of my co-workers was also a Hokie and we were in shock and disbelief. Another co-worker had a son who was a student at VT and he scrambled to reach his kid, and luckily was able to get in contact with him to breathe a sigh of relief that his son was okay.

Later that week I watched the President of the United States (George W. Bush) attend the invocation on campus from my desk online. That invocation at Cassell Coliseum was overwhelming. Still to this day anytime I see Nikki Giovanni's speech "We Will Prevail" - I fall apart.

Everyone has a connection to the tragedy.

Blacksburg is like that. Only 1 or 2 degrees of separation for a school of over 25,000 students. Our tight-knit community is built on the fact that we do all really know each other or know their friends or their friends' friends.

For me, a sister in my sorority was shot that day. She was one of the survivors. I didn't know her personally at the time, but after April 16th, I reached out to my sorority's Chapter Advisor to ask how she and the chapter were handling this tragedy and what could I do to help? There was an open spot on the sorority's advisory board and so I stepped in as their Recruitment Advisor.

My title didn't matter, nor did the songs we sang practicing for Formal Recruitment that year. What mattered was the safety and compassion we felt when we were together, the support we knew we had from each other. What mattered was how those women were dealing with the death of their friends, with the shooting and recovery of their sister and with their loss of security on a campus that was their home away from home.

I stepped up to help my sorority because I wanted to help the chapter, but selfishly because I wanted to help myself grieve. I needed it. I needed to be around others who understood how bad it hurt. I later met the sister who had been shot in the head, stomach and back and survived thanks to at least 4 surgeries (including one to remove a bullet from her spine). She came back to school and, incredibly, her younger sibling came to VT the next year. She is amazing and inspiring and has gone on to graduate from VT and help people around the world.

I think that's why I'm so connected to my sorority, perhaps more so than when I was a student. I saw the power in our sisterhood as we came together to grieve, to heal and to help each other during the darkest days.

It Feels Personal
Even though I wasn't a student at the time of the shooting, it feels personal. It feels like a violation of my hometown. I had classes in Norris Hall and it felt strange that the building where I sat for Geology classes freshman year is now the site of the worst massacre on a college campus in US history. I still can't fathom that this happened to my little town, my former campus, my home.

The Hokie Nation, as we are called, doesn't stop at graduation. Virginia Tech is not just a place where I cheer for a football team or received my degree, it's where I became who I am today. It's where I found people who were like me, found even more who weren't and yet, we were all friends who lived together, laughed together and learned from each other.

"While 32 of our friends and classmates are in heaven trying to explain what a Hokie is, I stand here sure in the fact that I wouldn't want to be anything else."