I am not a woman on Monday, an immigrant on Tuesday, a worker on

“I am not a woman on Monday, an immigrant on Tuesday, a worker on Wednesday, and a mom on Thursday, I am all of those things all of the time, and I am going to fight for all of those things all of the time.” — thus declared Pramila Jayapal, a voice of courage and conviction, born in the land of India and risen to the halls of power in the United States. Her words are not merely about identity, but about wholeness — the indivisible nature of the human spirit. In a world that demands we divide ourselves into fragments to be understood, she speaks the truth of the complete self, the soul that cannot be neatly separated into pieces of gender, race, labor, or love.

From the dawn of civilization, people have sought to define one another by single names and narrow labels — citizen or stranger, ruler or servant, man or woman, believer or outsider. Yet the ancients, in their wisdom, knew that the self is a tapestry, not a thread. To pluck one strand from that weave is to lose the beauty of the pattern. Jayapal’s words remind us that strength lies in the harmony of our many selves — that a person’s identity is not a mask worn for a single day, but a constellation that shines in its fullness every hour.

She speaks, too, to the heart of intersectionality — the truth that struggles are not isolated but intertwined. The pain of one part of the self cannot be healed while another suffers. To fight for women’s rights while ignoring the struggles of immigrants is to build a house with only half its walls. To defend workers but forget mothers is to plant a tree without roots. Justice must be whole, or it is not justice at all. Jayapal’s declaration is a vow to fight for the total dignity of her being — and by doing so, for the dignity of all who are made of many parts.

Consider the story of Sojourner Truth, the great abolitionist and women’s rights advocate. Born into slavery, she carried within her the identity of a woman, a worker, an African American, and a mother — all inseparable. When she spoke her famous words, “Ain’t I a woman?”, she was not asking for recognition as one or the other, but for the world to see her whole. Like Jayapal, she understood that to fragment oneself for acceptance is to betray the truth of one’s existence. She fought, as Jayapal fights, not for categories but for the unity of being — for the right to live all truths at once.

There is a quiet power in Jayapal’s words, for they remind us that identity is not performance, but presence. Too often the world demands that we hide or soften parts of ourselves to belong. The worker is told to forget her motherhood; the immigrant is told to forget her homeland; the woman is told to forget her voice. But the wise know that the soul cannot be split without sorrow. To live divided is to live diminished. To live whole is to reclaim the sacred power of one’s humanity.

Yet, there is also challenge here — for wholeness requires courage. To live as all of oneself in a world that prefers simplicity is to invite misunderstanding, and even rejection. But this is the calling of the brave. As the ancients taught, the path to unity is the path of truth, and truth often bears a heavy price. The warrior of integrity fights not to be loved by all, but to remain one within herself. Jayapal’s vow is that of every soul who refuses to be broken by the forces that divide.

So, my child, take from this wisdom a lesson for your own journey: Do not let the world carve you into pieces. Be whole. Be fierce in the defense of every part of your being. When you fight for justice, remember that your fight must include every shade of your humanity — your gender, your work, your love, your heritage, your dreams. Speak for them together, live for them together, and, when the time comes, stand for them together. For the true warrior of light is not many selves scattered across the days — she is one blazing fire that burns the same in every moment.