I can do that too: A reflection on diversity in American politics

I was only five-years-old when the democratic process stole my heart.

I wasn’t able to retain many of my friends in kindergarten because, to me, no cartoon show or playdate was worth missing a live C-Span broadcast of Congress in session. My apolitical parents (who voted sparingly and only in presidential elections at the time) found it especially peculiar that I would decline to see the Avengers with them because Senator Kirsten Gillibrand was scheduled to make a floor speech that night.

To a young, elementary school-aged Raphi, the big words and hardly consistent rules of debate were not nearly the most puzzling things about Congress. My biggest confusion could be encapsulated in a question I vividly remember asking my aunt one morning: Why don’t any of these people look like me?

During an interview last week with Andrew Ross Sorkin in the 2023 New York Times DealBook summit, Representative Kevin O. McCarthy confessed his envy of the diversity found in members of opposing party. He recalled his thoughts during the 2017 State of the Union address:

I’d just become leader and I’m excited and President Trump’s there. And I look over at the Democrats and they stand up. They look like America. We stand up. We look like the most restrictive country club in America.

I found it refreshing that someone once in conservative leadership expressed how problematic it is for an entire party’s elected representatives to look like a “restrictive country club.” But to my dismay, Representative McCarthy’s comment was not received well by other Republicans. I was shocked to find so many folks I considered mentors of mine taking it to Facebook and X to rebuke the former Speaker’s remarks. Some viral posts called McCarthy’s words a “brand of affirmative action” or “reverse racism.” Another person audaciously quoted the Reverend Dr. King in their rebuttal of McCarthy, suggesting conservatives are supposed to “judge others by the content of their character.”

I’m disappointed by the outrage. Those who roam the halls of power ought not just to reflect our ideas, they ought to look like America too.

In the years following that conversation with my aunt, I still couldn't find a real answer to my question. I started to believe that there wasn’t a place in politics for a brown son of immigrants like me. I laid off my dream of becoming a public servant, in favor of singing and boxing, where I could easily find role models in Bruno Mars and Manny Pacquiao. It wasn’t until middle school where my excitement in the democratic process was reignited by a local civic group who offered me the opportunity to assemble yard signs and sing the national anthem at their fundraisers in exchange for school credit.

I bring this up because there is a really important discussion to be had about diversity in government.?

I’m a firm believer in the “trustee” model of representation. There is far too much information unavailable to the public, and we should not allow short-term wants of the under informed majority to control public policy. Rather, we need to trust our representatives to make calculated decisions that best reflect our interests in the long term, even if deemed unpopular in the moment. Senator Mitch McConnell writes about this at length in my favorite political memoir, The Long Game.

But the trustee model of representation also requires our elected representatives to factor in their own lived experiences in the choices they are entrusted to make. What good is there in the civil discourse of a republic controlled by people of one race, one gender, and identical occupational backgrounds and upbringings?

I was working out at the gym in April 2021 when I saw the television headline that Governor Gavin Newsom appointed Rob Bonta as the Attorney General of California. Bonta became the first-ever California constitutional officer of Filipino descent. Watching the news report, I paused the treadmill and broke out in tears.

Bonta was born in the same Philippine city as my mother and father. For the first time ever, the chief law enforcement officer of the largest state Department of Justice in America looked like me. For the first time ever, someone would be at the decision-making table having lived experiences similar to my family. Before my very eyes, someone was being sworn-in by the Governor whose ancestors, like mine, were denied the basic freedoms of testifying in court, or accessing public accommodations like hotels and restaurants.

And in a way, it’s kind of silly. Bonta and I diametrically disagree on all-things criminal justice. If I were old enough to cast a ballot in his 2022 re-election bid, I would have most likely voted for his opponent. I imagine if I could talk to Attorney General Bonta over a bowl of ube ice cream, our conversation might end up a fiery one.

Our institutions work better when they mirror the people they serve. And no, I’m not calling for race and gender quotas. I vehemently oppose the “reservation” of legislative seats for particular demographics, like what had been done in some parts of India. I think it’s wrong to give certain people preferential treatment based on factors outside of their control. However, these beliefs are not mutually exclusive with the belief that our country is better off with diverse backgrounds in public service.

I keep a printed transcript of Bonta’s inauguration speech framed in my dorm room. It gives me a nice reminder every morning that here in America, anything is possible. That twenty years from today, a young Asian-American boy with a anomalous interest in watching C-Span could see me represent my constituents on the floor of the United States Senate and think to himself, I can do that too.