Credit: Courtesy of the author

In hindsight, the happiest days of my life blur together: the birth of my beautiful daughter, Aaliyah, after years of struggling to get pregnant; the day I married my husband Towqir, the love of my life; the day I was sworn in to serve my home, Durham County, on the Board of County Commissioners. And recently, a new one to add to the list: finding out I was pregnant with our second child. The most joyful, incredible surprise of a lifetime.

If I asked you to picture an elected official, your first thought might not be of a pregnant person. People think of pregnancy as a hindrance, an obstacle—an experience that makes you weak, meek, and passive. Pregnant people are objects to be protected, rather than active subjects ourselves, with agency and power and energy of our own. Heck, we’re growing another person inside of our bodies. If that’s not power, I don’t know what is.

To be honest, this kind of dismissal is familiar to me. It echoes the way people have perceived Muslim women in our country for most of my lifetime. I know what it’s like to be the “only” in the room; to carry a visible identifier like a hijab or a baby bump that draws attention, and not always the positive kind. In fact, throughout my career as a public servant, I’ve had to deal with attacks—dogwhistled or explicit—that question my agency, my culture, my religion, my feminism, my capacity to control my own body. Shades of the same attacks leveled at pregnant people every day.

To all those who doubt the capacity of mothers and all pregnant people to serve, I say: Bring it on. The solution to the marginalization pregnant people face is not to shield us from it altogether; it’s to make politics safe for us, so that more pregnant people can run, win, and serve.

After all, who better to craft policy and advocate for working families than us? Our lived experience ties together every part of society, every piece of what a functioning democracy ought to deliver for its residents: healthcare; childcare; good jobs and labor protections; safe, high-quality schools; a guaranteed basic income; walkable, accessible parks; a life free from discrimination and violence. All wrapped up in the experiences of pregnancy and parenthood, all wrapped up in our bodies.

This pregnancy—which, in contrast to our first journey of IUI, tearful doctors’ office visits, and a dangerous ectopic pregnancy, happened completely out of the blue—has only redoubled my commitment to fight for working families across our county. Because the right to paid family leave, a dignified and safe birthing experience, a true living wage, and a job that stays secure whether you’re pregnant or not, is not just reserved for elected officials or county employees—they’re basic necessities for all of us. I feel more emboldened than ever to help make them a reality, so that every family in Durham County has the support they need to raise their children right here, right now.

This starts from the very beginning, with investments in prenatal-to-3 services like healthy food, medical access, and childcare. It extends to investments in Universal pre-K and early childhood development. And it extends to investments in guaranteed basic income that prioritize families with young children. All of these policies and more can make raising a family in Durham as seamless and supported as possible.

Of course, accomplishing all of this won’t happen overnight—and none of it is to say that being pregnant in politics is a stroll in the park. As is true for every pregnant person, no matter their job: there will be challenges, large and small—and hard choices about what to prioritize, and when. But I am one of the lucky ones. I have an incredible husband and partner in Towqir, who supports me as an individual and as a mother. I have my parents close by, playing with Aaliyah and bringing us meals, providing the warm blanket of love every family deserves. And I have a whole village of support across Durham County: Aaliyah’s daycare teachers, who send us photos of her playing with her friends that fill my heart with joy, our team of doctors and nurses, who make sure we’re safe every step of the way, and of course, my elected colleagues across Durham, who understand and support the power of working moms in office better.

With their solidarity and support, I am so excited to grow my family—and grow our community, too. By sharing our stories and talking about pregnancy openly, without fear of retribution, I hope we can all move past the harmful objectification and marginalization of pregnant people in the public sector.

Maybe then, by the time my children are adults, it won’t be rare to see a baby bump or little kiddos running through the halls of power.

Nida Allam is a Durham County Commissioner.

Comment on this story at backtalk@indyweek.com.

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