One image has stuck with me throughout this toxic election season - a 10-year-old girl rocking a hot pink t-shirt with "Future President" written in rainbow glitter. We both happened to be in a South Philly Subway getting lunch this summer. (For me, this Subway was a moment of needed respite from a day spent in DMV hell getting the oldest kid's learner permit). While her parents, both wearing traditional Indian clothes, ordered their sandwiches she was twirling around the middle of the store. Watching her dance, my eyes teared up when I thought "oh, hell yes, you can be the President of the United States." And I hope in 40 years when you're elected you aren't the "first" anything. Not the first women, not the first woman of color, not the first woman of immigrant parents even. The election seems hell bent on reminding me that the scales of equality continue to be tipped hard in favor of white men but if I look closer I can see signs of change. The kind of change that takes us to the day when she will be just a human being uniquely qualified to be president, and any "first" labels that could be given to her will be rendered obsolete starting with Hillary Clinton, our first woman president, in 2016.