Girlies on the Moon

Image is from http://www.people.com.

One of the hardest truths for many to confront is that slavery, racism, Jim Crow laws, and systemic discrimination existed for so long in this country that they have profoundly shaped how we all see the world—whether we realize it or not. These legacies live deep in our subconscious. They shape our perspectives, our responses, and the lens through which we interpret nearly everything around us.

Take, for example, the recent 10-minute space flight. To some, it was an extravagant display of wealth—tone-deaf, even—especially in a world still reeling from injustice, inequality, and so much human need. But others saw something entirely different: two women of color—two brown women—who had the access, privilege, and freedom to travel into space. For them, it was a moment of awe: “Look how far we’ve come.”

Personally, I couldn’t help but think of my father. As a young man, he once sat on a bus and was confronted by a White man who pressed a knife to his side and ordered him to move to the back. That story has stayed with me my whole life—a painful reminder of where we come from and how far we’ve had to climb just to be seen as equal.

And now, here we are, witnessing brown women taking their rightful place—not at the back of the bus, but on a rocket to space. I mean… WOW. Just WOW. My history—our history—won’t let me look at that and feel anything but a deep sense of pride and celebration.

My childhood was stuck in the White vs. Black framework—shaped by firsthand encounters with racism—my own, and those passed down through the stories of my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. But my children? They’re growing up in a different world—one where they’ve seen a Black president and first lady, a Black woman vice president married to a Jewish man, an Indian American second lady, Muslims in Congress, Latinos in Congress, Latinos serving in the president’s cabinet, an Indian-Ugandan American leading the FBI, a Samoan American overseeing national intelligence, and a Black congressman beating out a racist defending Jim Crow with the longest speech ever delivered in Congress. Now they’re watching women of every shade of the human spectrum taking their personal and EARNED wealth to take a joy ride to the moon. If we could just take a breath, set aside our political differences for a moment, we might see it: America—flawed, complicated, and messy—is still fighting forward…still making progress in some very real and important ways.

Y’all… are we even okay? How are we missing this moment?

This generation is being retrained—learning to see America through a different lens. And I don’t mean forgetting the past or pretending the work is finished. Far from it. But moments like this have the power to spark a kind of hope—maybe even a deeper hope than I or generations before me ever had—because they’re witnessing, in real time, what is possible.

And whether we agree with every detail or not, that shift in perspective is something worth paying attention to.

My story is not the only one affected by this moment. Others noticed that an Asian woman was also on board, further enriching the image—women from different racial and cultural backgrounds, united in one extraordinary, history-making moment.

The truth is, all of these perspectives—whether critical, celebratory, or somewhere in between—are valid. Each one is shaped by a different journey, a different pain, a different hope. That’s the complexity of progress: we carry our histories with us as we witness the future unfold.

We can’t judge people for how they interpret moments like this. We’ve all been wounded by the flaws of America—but we can also be healed by celebrating its progress. Both truths can exist at once. That’s why we have to extend grace—to others and to ourselves.

While I may not admire everything about Lauren Sánchez, particularly when it comes to her personal life, I have to admit: as a Black woman carrying the weight of generational struggle, I felt a quiet sense of pride watching a Mexican woman lead this mission. In a time when our nation’s leadership is actively working to roll back rights and push out immigrants—including those from the Latino community—her presence in that capsule wasn’t just symbolic. It was powerful. It felt like a quiet act of defiance.

And then there was the full picture—watching a group of women from different racial and cultural backgrounds—Black, Latina, Asian—launching toward the edge of space together. It stirred something deep in me. I’ll be honest: I felt torn. Part of me bristled at the extravagance of it all, while another part stood in awe. It was like holding multiple truths at once—grief and joy, irritation and admiration, skepticism and a quiet willingness to trust the beauty of the moment. Our awareness—our “wokeness”—can make us cautious, even cynical, especially in the midst of a racially divided and politically charged season. It’s easy to write it off as a publicity stunt. And yet, the fact that this diverse crew exists—that these women have the power, money, and influence to pull this off—represents something larger. It points to what’s possible for all of us, no matter what our ancestors endured. That this moment is even possible feels miraculous, regardless of how it came to be.

This event, complex as it is, reveals something vital about the American story. We all carry within us a vision of what freedom and opportunity look like in this country. And despite America’s deep flaws and painful past, there is still something remarkable about the idea that a person—regardless of their race, background, or origin—can rise, dream, and reach for something once thought impossible.

Yes, it may seem wasteful in a world full of need. But for one moment, we witnessed a crew of women, a spectrum of color and culture, sitting side by side in space—as equals. That is a snapshot of what America can be. And it’s a vision worth holding onto. One we must keep fighting for.

To make it through the turbulence of the American story, I can’t afford to stay stuck—marinating in the past or solely focused on everything that’s broken. There has to be a balance: remembering the past, staying conscious and awake to the truth, while still counting our blessings.

I’m reminded of 1 Thessalonians 5:18: “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” Verses like that help anchor me—especially in a world, and a society, that so often lets us down. So I choose to look for what is good as God commands me to in Philippians 4:8 “Finally, brethren…whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” And even with this country’s troubled origins and flawed framework, I must constantly look for what is beautiful, like this moment in space—these women, soaring.

We’ve come a long way since Gil Scott-Heron told us how he felt about trips to the moon. I can’t help but wonder what he’d write now—because the narrative has shifted. The game has changed. Now, girlies can just drop the cash and go to the “moon.” No degrees required. No glass ceilings to shatter. No need to prove themselves. Nothing in their way—no patriarchy, no racism, no gatekeepers at the door. No more hidden figures quietly contributing behind the scenes. This time, it’s front page. Loud. Proud. Unapologetic. Brilliant, bold, unstoppable girlies—who look like all of us—claiming space simply because they can. And honestly? How could you not be moved by that?