Amid tall bookshelves, pungent cheese, and beautiful mid-century art, I first met Barbara Boxer in the Upper West Side home of two of the most important Democratic activists in the country. A few dozen friends had gathered to support her re-election campaign. Everyone in the room was abuzz with excitement to hear her speak—they knew her and her record well and wanted to hear all that she was working on. I was a newcomer, curious about this famous senator who was a leader in women’s rights, LGBT rights, and environmental protection, and who was known to be a tough fighter. I was thinking about running for Congress someday and my eyes were glued on her. I watched how she spoke so casually, with such self-assurance, with passion and determination. I knew she was a powerful national leader, but I didn’t know what an important person she would be in my own Senate career a decade later. I just watched in awe of her command of the facts, her strong, direct speaking style when making a point, and her no-nonsense approach to her job. I thought, “I want to be able to do that someday…”
Fast-forward ten years. Barbara and I are in the trenches fighting against the Department of Defense (DOD) and too many colleagues about reforming how the military addresses sexual assault in the armed forces. We had been down the road of intense negotiations, belligerent defiance by DOD commanders, and multiple hearings. We had spent time with survivors, hearing their stories and feeling the heartbreaking disappointment of not being able to deliver the reform so vitally needed. One afternoon, after everyone had filed out of a meeting with Majority Leader Harry Reid to make our plea for a vote before the end of the year, I sat for an extra moment on Harry’s couch and looked over to Barbara. Her eyes were still set, her face resolute, and her frame leaning forward.
I said, “Barbara, I just don’t know. I’m not sure this is ever going to move forward.”
Without even a breath, she said, “Kirsten, this is the moment you can’t give up. This is the time you dig deeper. You have to keep at it. It will make all the difference.”
Words of steel, just at the right time. Just when I needed them. That particular battle against the DOD leadership raged on for months longer, and we ultimately lost that vote, but by the end we had fifty-five senators, from both sides of the aisle, standing with us. I learned from Barbara that day the first rule of the Art of Tough: Never give up. Especially when the chips are down and there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. I’m still fighting on behalf of survivors of sexual assault, and I will never doubt the importance of the fight. I will sorely miss Barbara by my side in the Senate but I’m certain her next chapter will be even bolder than the last.
Kirsten Gillibrand