INTRODUCTION
The Language of Hope
I’ve come a long way from the Brooklyn girl donning a double ponytail, sitting on the front steps, in a Catholic school uniform, on Foster Avenue. The first generation in my family to be raised in the United States, I was nicknamed “The Hope.” My grandparents emigrated to the United States in the late 1970s from Trinidad and Tobago with the hope that they could create equitable opportunities for their daughters and granddaughters. With her roots ingrained in conservative gender roles, my grandmother struggled to embrace the idea that women could lead or have equal access to executive-level opportunities. By the time I was in grade school, television and movies portrayed strong women, albeit with a man or two ...
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