Laphonza Butler

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded.

Ms. BUTLER. Mr. President, I rise today to join my colleagues in recognizing the indispensable contributions public service workers across the Nation make every single day. I would like to start by thanking Senators Sinema and Lankford--thank you so much--for championing the 2024 reintroduction of their Public Service Recognition Week resolution of which I am a proud cosponsor. For more than four decades, the first week of May has been set aside to show appreciation to the Federal, State, county, and local government employees who form the backbone of our country. As we mark the 40th anniversary of this tradition, we have a renewed opportunity to salute those working behind the scenes in small towns and big cities, many of whom have dedicated their entire professional careers to giving back to their community and to this country. California is home to more public servants than any other State in our Nation. As one of the two Senators representing more than 40 million Californians, I could not be prouder of that fact. Whether it is here in the Halls of Congress or in the pockets of our Nation, I stand shoulder to shoulder with millions of public servants who get out of bed every morning, committed to shaping our world for the better. From our teachers to our librarians, our elected officials and our election workers, our people in uniform who fight crimes and fight fires, they and so many others exemplify some of our Nation's highest ideals. I am inspired by the stories of hard-working Californians who have dedicated their lives to public service. They are the reason our communities are kept safe. They are the reason our students are kept on the right track. They are the reason democracy endures against attempts to erode it. And they don't get nearly enough credit or thanks for the sacrifices that they make to keep our country moving forward. My office performed direct outreach to communities up and down our State, inviting people to nominate those working in local, State, and Federal offices they believe best define what it means to be a public servant. We received hundreds of nominations--extraordinary people from all across California who embody the spirit of public service--and though each and every one of them deserves their own recognition, I would like to share a few of those stories today. The first is Roxana Samame. Roxana is a multilingual cultural academic language coach for the L.A. Unified School District. She is nominated by Geraldine Hernandez- Abisror. Geraldine met Roxana this year from Geraldine's work in community engagement and as a parent liaison for the Reseda Community Schools. A member of United Teachers Los Angeles, Roxana is a single mom, nominated for having the biggest heart and the best gift for working with students from underserved communities. She was a former dean of students at West Adams Prep School, has worked with students involved in gangs, and has provided meaningful support to keep our kids on the right path. She currently serves as a coach for title III multilingual and cultural language students in Los Angeles, which is the second largest school district in our Nation. In addition, she works in supportive services for the English Language Development Program at William Mulholland Middle School. Congratulations, and thank you, Roxana. Veronica Marbella from Los Angeles, CA. Veronica is a nurse practitioner at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Outpatient Center in Los Angeles, CA. She was nominated by Guadalupe Alvarado. Veronica is a proud union member of SEIU Local 721, and she was Guadalupe's first supervisor in 2001 at Charles Drew Medical Center. She has served for 30 years as a nurse practitioner, including the supervision of the Trauma Intensive Care Unit at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Community Hospital in LA. She built a track record of training nurses on how to best advocate for their patients and for each other. She also worked closely with Dr. Meade, who was the ICU director and a Nobel Peace Prize recipient, to orient and train both interns and residents in the surgery program. Veronica has dedicated her life to serving others in the most complex environments. In the words of Guadalupe, ``She reminds us of the compassion, dedication, and skill involved in providing excellent patient care.'' Thank you, Veronica and Guadalupe. Joy Murphy from Santa Clara, CA. Joy works at NASA's Ames Research Center and was nominated by her cousin, Geraldine Hernandez-Abisror. Joy has been a public servant for more than 26 years and was the first Filipina-African American to serve as the Deputy Director of the Office of Human Capital at NASA's Ames Research Center. She now serves as the Director for California Human Resources and Chief Human Capital Officer at NASA's Armstrong Flight Research Center in Edwards, CA. Joy is a mother who has dedicated her life to serving her community and, according to Geraldine, has a heart of gold and talent that words cannot describe. Thank you, Joy, for all that you do to make California and our Nation great. Josh Hoines from Shasta, CA. Josh works for the National Park Service and was nominated by Erin Ryan, who works with Josh in serving California constituents. A public servant for more than 18 years, Josh currently serves as the Whiskeytown Park Superintendent. Erin told us that Josh came into his role during a very difficult time. Over 90 percent of the park had burned in a wildfire, and he was dealing with COVID shutdowns and a lack of funding. Despite these obstacles, Josh has returned to the park, and he has returned the park to an effective recreation area. According to Erin, Josh has done great work with staff and the community and our office. She adds that the community is fortunate to have him in the district. I know I am fortunate to have Josh in our national parks as a representative of this government. I am grateful, Josh. Thank you and congratulations. Finally, Diego Rivera. Also from Los Angeles, Diego is a firefighter. He is a firefighter at the U.S. Forest Service, Angeles National Forest in Los Angeles, CA. He was nominated by Robert Garcia, who served as his boss, the fire chief. On August 16, 2023, Diego was fighting fires in the Six Rivers National Forest in Northern California when he was struck by a fallen tree and was severely injured, rendering him paralyzed. Since his injury, Diego continues to defy a lot of his medical prognoses, exceeding any expectation that medical professionals have made. Despite his paralysis, he remains engaged with his firefighting team and the U.S. Forest Service's fire agency to continue to motivate and inspire firefighters to believe in themselves and in each other. In closing, service is the rent we pay for living or, as Shirley Chisholm reminded us, it is the great price that we pay for living. I am grateful to the thousands of public servants across the State of California for their continued service to the people of this Nation. Choosing a life of dedicated service to others is a decision that demands the highest respect and the greatest gratitude. Far too often, people in this line of work go unsung and underpaid. So, as we use this moment to recognize the critical role they play in holding our Nation together, let's recommit ourselves to understanding that they are needed, ensuring that they are protected, and making the path to public service smoother for those who choose to walk it. I yield the floor.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Madam President, in conclusion of the letter from a Birmingham jail: Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with America's destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here. For more than two centuries our forebears labored in this country without wages; they made cotton king; they built the homes of their masters while suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation--and yet out of a bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and develop. If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands. Before closing I feel impelled to mention one other point in your statement that has troubled me profoundly. You warmly commended the Birmingham police force for keeping ``order'' and ``preventing violence.'' I doubt that you would have so warmly commended the police force if you had seen its dogs sinking their teeth into unarmed, nonviolent Negroes. I doubt that you would so quickly commend the policemen if you were to observe their ugly and inhumane treatment of Negroes here in the city jail; if you were to watch them push and curse old Negro women and young Negro girls; if you were to see them slap and kick old Negro men and young boys; if you were to observe them, as they did on two occasions, refuse to give us food because we wanted to sing our grace together. I cannot join you in your praise of the Birmingham police department. It is true that the police have exercised a degree of discipline in handling the demonstrators. In this sense they have conducted themselves rather ``nonviolently'' in public. But for what purpose? To preserve the evil system of segregation. Over the past few years I have consistently preached that nonviolence demands that the means we use must be as pure as the ends we seek. I have tried to make clear that it is wrong to use immoral means to attain moral ends. But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or perhaps even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends. Perhaps Mr. Connor and his policemen have been rather nonviolent in public, as was Chief Pritchett in Albany, Georgia, but they have used the moral means of nonviolence to maintain the immoral end of racial injustice. As T. S. Eliot has said: ``The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.'' I wish you had commended the Negro sit inners and demonstrators of Birmingham for their sublime courage, their willingness to suffer and their amazing discipline in the midst of great provocation. One day the South will recognize its real heroes. They will be the James Merediths, with the noble sense of purpose that enables them to face jeering and hostile mobs, and with the agonizing loneliness that characterizes the life of the pioneer. They will be old, oppressed, battered Negro women, symbolized in a seventy two year old woman in Montgomery, Alabama, who rose up with a sense of dignity and with her people decided not to ride segregated buses, and who responded with ungrammatical profundity to one who inquired about her weariness: ``My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest.'' They will be the young high school and college students, the young ministers of the gospel and a host of their elders, courageously and nonviolently sitting in at lunch counters and willingly going to jail for conscience' sake. One day the South will know that when these disinherited children of God sat down at lunch counters, they were in reality standing up for what is best in the American dream and for the most sacred values in our Judaeo Christian heritage, thereby bringing our nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the founding fathers in their formulation of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. Never before have I written so long a letter. I'm afraid it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts and pray long prayers? If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me. I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also hope that circumstances will soon make it possible for me to meet each of you, not as an integrationist or a civil-rights leader but as a fellow clergyman and a Christian brother. Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty. Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood, Martin Luther King, Jr. I yield the floor.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Mr. President, today, I rise to honor Women's History Month and to once again bring attention to the destructive practice of book banning taking place all across our Nation. At this time, I am also going to be joined by my esteemed colleague, Senator Tina Smith from Minnesota. Our Nation's literature serves as a mirror, a window, and a door to endless possibilities, fueling our imagination, fostering empathy, and challenging us to think critically about our beliefs and values. To many young Americans, opening a book with characters who resemble them and their lived experiences is the very essence of our Nation's commitment to freedom of thought. These stories highlight the voices of everyday Americans who often go unheard. Let me put the horrors of these book bans in context. PEN America provides a comprehensive overview of the increase in book bans across U.S. schools during the 2021 to 2022 school year. It reveals a significant rise in instances of censorship, with over 2,500 cases affecting nearly 1,650 unique titles. Most of these bans are driven by organized groups targeting books that explore LGBTQ+ themes and racial issues. Adding on to this, in 2022, the American Library Association documented 1,269 demands to censor library books and resources, marking the highest number of attempted book bans in over 20 years and nearly doubling the count from 2021. A significant 38-percent increase was observed in the number of unique titles targeted, with the majority concerning LGBTQIA+ topics or authored by individuals from diverse racial backgrounds. The worst part is that these challenges are increasingly initiated by groups rather than individuals, with a shift toward targeting multiple titles at once. It is the new veneer by which historical revisionists intend to erode the history of our people. I am all but obligated to ensure that all forms of expression remain unrestrained. Just as rivers carve the landscapes of America, literature has the profound capacity to shape the minds and lives of America's youth. These stories flow through their consciousness, eroding old biases, watering seeds of new ideas, and guiding them along the path of self-discovery. In navigating these waters, young people learn to understand and embrace their identities, recognize their place in a larger narrative, and appreciate the diversity of the human experience. Literature, in its boundless forms, acts as a river--constantly moving, shaping, and transforming the selfhood of our youth, guiding them toward the vast ocean of their potential. Growing up in rural Mississippi and as the descendant of sharecroppers, my journey echoes the narratives of resilience and perseverance that are deeply rooted in American history, and so I found solace reading the words of the great Maya Angelou--one of our Nation's quintessential civil rights leaders and one of its most prolific writers. With her profound literary and societal contributions, Angelou left an indelible mark across America. Angelou's voice, particularly through her autobiography ``I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,'' offers deep insights into the human condition, advocating for civil rights and female empowerment. Yet, proponents of book banning do not believe that her story and her perspective have a place in our national narrative. ``I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings'' is set against the backdrop of the rural South, providing a poignant exploration of Angelou's own experiences growing up as a Black girl in America during the Great Depression of the 1930s and 1940s. Her words encapsulate the essence of American beauty. It is not just the triumphs but also the struggles that shape us, guiding our paths to becoming who we are meant to be. ``I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings'' is a testament to the human spirit's capacity for resilience, for transformation, and for triumph over adversity, making it a timeless and essential piece of literature. Every child in this Nation should have the opportunity to read it if they are truly to understand the history of the United States. In her writing, Maya Angelou offers: Without willing it, I had gone from being ignorant of being ignorant to being aware of being aware. And the worst part of my awareness was that I didn't know what I was aware of. I knew very little, but I was certain that the things I had yet to learn wouldn't be taught to me at George Washington High School. I began to cut classes, to walk in Golden Gate Park or wander along the shiny counter of the Emporium Department Store. When Mother discovered that I was playing truant, she told me that if I didn't want to go to school one day, if there were no tests being held, and if my school work was up to standard, all I had to do was tell her and I could stay home. She said that she didn't want some white woman calling her up to tell her something about her child that she didn't know. And she didn't want to be put in the position of lying to a white woman because I wasn't woman enough to speak up. That put an end to my truancy, but nothing appeared to lighten the long gloomy day that going to school became. To be left alone on the tightrope of youthful unknowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision. Few, if any, survive their teens. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of adult conformity. It becomes easier to die and avoid conflicts than to maintain a constant battle with the superior forces of maturity. Until recently each generation found it more expedient to plead guilty to the charge of being young and ignorant, easier to take the punishment meted out by the older generation (which had itself confessed to the same crime short years before). The command to grow up at once was more bearable than the faceless horror of wavering purpose, which was youth. The bright hours when the young rebelled against the descending sun had to give way to twenty-four-hour periods called ``days'' that were named as well as numbered. The Black female is assaulted in her tender years by all those common forces of nature at the same time that she is caught in the tripartite crossfire of masculine prejudice, white illogical hate and Black lack of power. The fact that the adult American Negro female emerges a formidable character is often met with amazement, distaste, and even belligerence. It is seldom accepted as an inevitable outcome of the struggle won by survivors and deserves respect if not enthusiastic acceptance. To those advancing the banning of books, I ask you to pause and reflect on a moment when a book truly spoke to you. Let that memory guide you to understand the power of literature, not just as a mirror of society but as a builder of empathy and understanding across diverse experiences. Consider the richness these narratives bring to our collective understanding and the importance of keeping that diversity accessible for all. Literature, like rivers carving landscape, shapes the minds and lives of our youth, guiding them toward self-discovery and empowering them to embrace their identities. Maya Angelou's work exemplifies the resilience and strength of marginalized communities--of the community of Black women--offering profound insights into the human experience. I urge my colleagues to reflect on the transformative power of literature and to join me on the Senate floor to read an excerpt from a banned book that changed their lives but has since been banned from the lives of others. May we continue to strive for a future where every voice is heard and every story is valued. May America read freely. Now I turn to my colleague, Senator Smith from Minnesota.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Madam President, I ask unanimous consent that floor privileges be granted for the balance of the day for my interns: Daniel Soria, Senaite Habtewolde, and Phoebe Perkins.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Mr. President, I rise today on the final day recognizing Black History Month to bring attention to this Chamber and to the American people watching the very harmful and anti-democratic practice of book banning happening or being attempted in States all over our country. The First Amendment in our Constitution is clear: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. This amendment gives all Americans the right to speak, publish, and read what they wish, free from government censorship. But a nationwide campaign in States like Florida, Texas, Utah, North Dakota, and even California has been deployed to limit our children's learning and enforce restrictions on one of our most fundamental freedoms. Right now extremist politicians are working overtime to strip our Nation's bookshelves of essential literature that helps to tell the complete story of America, including the stories of great sacrifice, contribution, and pain of Black Americans. These include stories of struggle and triumph against hatred and bigotry. They recount efforts to reconcile the promise of American ideals with the reality of our most pervasive challenges. Authors who have long been recognized as chroniclers of our Nation's journey have been written off by lawmakers who seek to narrow the scope of what our children can learn about our history. Now, the organizers of these State-by-State battles would have you believe that they are upholding parents' choice, that imposing these book bans would somehow protect the innocence of our children. But I and so many others who have been watching this contend that the mass effort to shield young learners is an utter slap in the face to communities who too long had to fight to have their very stories told. Our Nation's most ethnically and racially diverse generation have seen themselves reflected in these pages, and for these extremist adults to deem these stories inappropriate is a direct attack on their experience and their very existence. Over the past 2 years, these blanket attacks on our books have become more organized and well funded. In 2022, more than 2,500 books were targeted. According to the American Library Association, the majority of those books were about Black or LGBTQ-plus people. As only the 12th Black Senator to serve in this Chamber and the first openly LGBTQ Black Senator to serve, I will not stand by silently as our stories get erased. That is why I will be joining the Freedom Readers and their efforts to ensure the freedom to learn by regularly taking to the Senate floor and inviting my colleagues to join me to read excerpts of books that tell the story of our Nation, its legacy, and the people who contribute to America's character of imperfection, of resilience, and of progress. ``Sister Outsider'' I will start today by offering excerpts from an essay in a book titled ``Sister Outsider,'' by Audre Lorde. Anyone who is remotely familiar with Lorde's exceptional body of work can contest to her genius as a writer, a poet, a philosopher, and a civil rights activist. Her book ``Sister Outsider'' is a collection of speeches and essays in which Ms. Lorde explores the questions surrounding race, identity, life, community, and meaning from her lens as a Black queer woman from Harlem, encouraging readers to do their own self-reflection and inviting them to draw new conclusions about the world around them, and to speak and take action. Ms. Lorde's work ``The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action'' first appeared in the Cancer Journal, where she shares her journey of having breast cancer, which ultimately led to a mastectomy. It reads, in part: In becoming forcibly and essentially aware of my mortality, and of what I wished and wanted of my life, however short it may be, priorities and omissions became strongly etched in a merciless light, and what I most regretted were my silences. Of what had I ever been afraid of? To question or to speak as I believed could have meant pain, or death. But we all hurt in so many different ways, all the time, and pain will either change or end. Death, on the other hand, is the final silence. And that might be coming quickly, now, without regard for whether I had ever spoken what needed to be said, or had only betrayed myself into small silences, while I planned someday to speak, or waited for someone else's words. And I began to recognize a source of power within myself that comes from the knowledge that while it is most desirable not to be afraid, learning to put fear into perspective gave me great strength. She writes: Within those weeks of acute fear came the knowledge--within the war we are all waging with the forces of death, subtle and otherwise, conscious or not--I am not only a casualty, I am also a warrior. What are the words you do not yet have? What do you need to say? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you will sicken and die of them, still in silence? Perhaps for some of you here today, I am the face of one of your fears. Because I am woman, because I am Black, because I am lesbian, because I am myself--a Black woman warrior poet doing work--who has come to ask you, are you doing yours? Ms. Lorde continues: And it is never without fear--of visibility, of the harsh light of scrutiny and perhaps judgment, of pain, of death. But we have lived through all of those already, in silence, except death. And I remind myself all the time now that if I were to have been born mute or had maintained an oath of silence my whole life long for safety, I would still have suffered, and I would still die. And where the words of women are crying to be heard, we must, each of us, recognize our responsibility to seek those words out, to read them and share them and examine them in their pertinence to our lives. That we not hide behind the mockeries of separations that have been imposed upon us and which so often we accept as our own. We can learn to work and speak when we are afraid in the same way we have learned to work and speak when we are tired. For we have been socialized to respect fear more than our own needs for language and definition, and while we wait in silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke us. The fact that we are here and that I speak these words is an attempt to break that silence and bridge some of those differences between us, for it is not difference which immobilizes us, but silence. And there are so many silences to be broken. In closing, the writings of Ms. Lorde's in ``The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action'' are not only a beautiful articulation in examining the cost of being silent in the face of what could have been for her a terminal illness, she gives us an even better gift: She invites us to acknowledge our commonalities as well as our differences in order to give them voice and to deepen our understanding and expand the power of our words and turn those words into action. While Ms. Lorde first wrote and delivered this essay in 1977, I think we could all agree that it could easily have been written just yesterday. Shamefully enough, school administrators in Tennessee took steps to target this book and to issue educational gag orders with a goal to suppress hundreds of other stories from being told. Now more than ever, we must heed Ms. Lorde's call to speak into the silence, to raise our voices and reject the intimidation of those who would have the history of our Nation, the beauty of our differences, and the complexity of our humanity disappear from generations of learners to come. I invite all of my colleagues to join me as Freedom Readers, to challenge those who attempt to undermine our history, and uplift the diversity of our stories against the attacks to erase them. I yield the floor.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Madam President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Madam President, just last week, we honored the legacy of Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on what would have been his 95th birthday. Today, misfortune touches the King family again with the passing of Reverend King's youngest son, Dexter Scott King. America will forever be indebted to the sacrifices of the King family, and our prayers remain with them in this challenging time of loss.

Ms. BUTLER

Ms. BUTLER. Madam President, before I begin my formal remarks, I would like to take a moment to acknowledge the delegation of California mayors who are here in the Gallery today. Madam President, I rise today with gratitude, honored to be a Member of this esteemed body. I rise having never imagined that this opportunity to serve would be a part of my journey. But I am grateful to so many who have helped it become true. I was appointed by Governor Gavin Newsom to serve the people of California after the passing of Senator Feinstein. No one could ever fill Senator Feinstein's shoes, but there are so many of us who stand on her shoulders. To both of them, I am grateful. I also know that my presence in these hallowed Halls is only made possible by Senator Carol Moseley Braun and now-Vice President Kamala Harris, both of whom were historic Members of this great Chamber. And to stand on their shoulders as the only Black woman in this Chamber today, I am eternally grateful. I appreciate the sacrifice and support of my friends and my family and the leadership of EMILYs List, who allowed me to turn their lives inside out and upside down to meet this moment in our Nation's story. To my partner, Neneki Lee, and my daughter, Nylah Grace, who are in the Gallery, I am especially grateful. Madam President, I know that I am the newest Senator to join this Chamber, and while I may be new to this title and to this institution, I am not new to the struggle and the work of justice. You see, I am the proud daughter of the South, born in Magnolia, MS, the youngest of three children. I am the granddaughter to Kary, a sharecropper from Louisiana, crippled at a young age by polio; the granddaughter to Lettie Ruth, a maid who had to take her children to the homes of the White families for whom she cleaned and children she cared for even as she worked to get her certificate as a nursing assistant. My grandparents were patriots who had to be urgent about the promise of America for their 11 children, the promise that if they worked hard and played by the rules, that their children would never have to see sharecropping as their destiny. My mother Sarah was number six. She had five in front and five behind. She was born in 1953, 1 year before the Brown v. Board of Education decision. Yet it would be 13 years before she and her classmates saw an integrated school or had any semblance of equal. As an adult, my mom made ends meet by working sometimes three jobs in the same day--working as a classroom assistant for mostly special needs children. She worked as a certified nursing assistant, just as her mom before her. She was a security officer, a cashier at a gas station. But her full-time job was unpaid. For more than a decade, she was the primary caregiver for my father Delos, who died after suffering six heart attacks, angioplasty, and receiving a heart transplant from an 18-year-old who died in a motorcycle accident. My father passed when I was 15 years old. Colleagues, my mother, too, needed to be urgent about the future of her three children. She knew she had to be and do everything and anything she could to ensure that we had the opportunities to break beyond the barriers of poverty and to chase our dreams. I went on to be educated at the Jackson State University in Jackson, MS. I had professors who were lawyers and scholars and organizers in the civil rights movement, who were urgent about the young minds and lives they were there to educate, leaders like Dr. Mary Coleman, who chaired our political science department and at the same time was a part of the litigation team that sued the State of Mississippi for equal funding for its historically Black colleges; professors like Dr. Leslie-Burl McLemore, who taught in our lecture halls but also served as a model of leadership, becoming the president of our beloved university, the mayor of Jackson, MS, and today, at 83 years old, one of the first Black elected officials in his hometown of Walls, MS. They and others taught me the urgency of opportunity inherent in the promise of America, but they also were clear that the arc of our moral universe bends toward justice only when people keep our heart and our hands pushing it in that direction. My time with workers, their families, and other leaders at SEIU was also formative because we built coalitions to win--to win healthcare benefits for healthcare workers who had never been able to see a doctor. We built a coalition to win to raise the minimum wage in California to $15 an hour when the average Californian was spending 40 percent of their disposable income on housing and on food. Together, we fought for environmental justice and to restore redemption and rehabilitation to our criminal justice system. We knew that we urgently needed to work to build the California that our children deserved. I was able to continue that work during my time at EMILYs List, supporting pro-choice women who advanced values that united their communities at every level of government. We were intent on creating that new generation of leaders. Madam President, today, I am clear that my time in the Senate can be no different, and I rise today urgent about the future of our Nation's children. I rise carrying the urgent hopes of my grandfather and my grandmother, the deferred dreams of my mother. I rise bearing witness to the urgent sense of action of my professors, who were determined to show that next generation of leaders that change is possible only when we choose to do it together. There are those who believe that the greatest test of our democracy is coming this November. I would submit that it is already happening. It is happening in our high schools and on our college campuses around the country. That is where my sense of urgency really comes from today. My impatience emerges from listening to my own child, who, at my staff holiday celebration just last year, shared the story of her elementary school lockdown as if it were commonplace. My sense of urgency comes from the facts amplified by the American Psychological Association that 13 percent of high school girls had attempted suicide, while 30 percent had considered it. Those numbers rose to 20 percent for LGBTQ+ students. And amongst Black girls, the suicide rate rose 36\1/2\ percent. My impatience was formed on June 24, 2022, when millions of women and girls across the country, just like my little girl, came home less free than their mothers and grandmothers the morning of the final Dobbs decision. My urgency was affirmed this past weekend while I was home in California celebrating the legacy of Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I had the opportunity to visit some of our State's best, brightest, and youngest minds. One of them is Jesus Francisco Estrada, Jr. He goes by ``Paco.'' Paco is going to turn 22 years old a week from today. He is a first- generation college student at Loyola Marymount University, and he is from South Central Los Angeles--he wanted me to make sure that I said between Green Meadows and Watts. His father is a member of UFCW Local 770, and he was the primary income earner in their house when he was working full time for over 20 years at a meat-processing and meat- cutting facility. Paco's mother was often too sick to work, as she suffered from a complex diabetes condition as well as having had a scare with cancer. Paco shared with me that, his entire childhood, he had grown up watching and knowing that his family was not going to be able to secure housing month to month. He knew this because he knew that his father was barely making ends meet and that sometimes they couldn't afford the rent. He saw the stress this added to his father's already grueling responsibilities. Then, 2 years ago, his younger sister had a psychotic episode that was later diagnosed as schizophrenia. As her condition progressed, she became violent in her behavior and once had to have the police come and take her away. As he had to be the translator for his Spanish-speaking parents about what was happening in his home that day, he said that he learned then, watching his sister be taken away, that police aren't equipped to deal with people with mental health disorders. The challenges and headwinds of Paco's life are enough to set anyone back. Instead, he has chosen to live and to lead forward. So my commitment to Paco, my urgency about the future of our children, my service to the people of California has to start with democracy and freedom, protecting and advancing its very ideals, determined to preserve it for those who must carry it forward. And I look forward to working with my colleagues to pass the Freedom to Vote Act and the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act. Freedoms once thought to be protected by our Constitution for decades--like reproductive healthcare, abortion access, and equal opportunity--are being stripped away right in front of us. I am eager to get to work with my colleagues to pass legislation to restore these protections and do today what cannot be left as the unfinished business of generations to come. My commitment to generation now includes a focus on their mental health and well-being. I am impatient to work with my colleague Senator Padilla and others to improve access to mental health and eager to work with Senator Brown and Senator Scott to advance the FEND Act to stop the spread of fentanyl in our communities and the killing of our children. According to recent data gathered by the AFL-CIO, 80 percent of workers under 30 want to be in a union. I am urgently ready to stand with those workers and with my colleagues who are committed to taking on the corporations that would stand in their way. We must pass legislation like the PRO Act and the Home and Community- Based Services Access Act to create the workforce necessary to provide the care in our communities, advancing economic opportunities for generation now, who will lead and work in the economy of the future. We must do all that we can to ensure the tools necessary to believe in the American dream again. In closing, Madam President, while I am urgent, I am also filled with abiding hope. Generation now may be cynical, but they are not sitting it out. Even as they have had to question whether government could truly work for them, even as they have seen dysfunctional and bitter politics, their advocacy on behalf of themselves and their future deserves its own recognition. The world watched as students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, FL, organized the March for Our Lives rally, bringing together almost 2 million people across the country to demand that Congress act on gun safety legislation. That rally became one of the largest student-led protests since the Vietnam war. From the Women's March to the Black Lives Matter marches around the globe, the most racially and ethnically diverse generation of our time has shown up time and time again, demanding that we do better. Whether it is the movements for gun reform, environmental protection, racial justice, or your local barista's fight to join a union, young people are demonstrating their willingness to be the force, the energy, and the face of change. While this is true across the Nation, it is especially true in my home State of California, the State home to the largest number of Gen Zers in our country. One of them is Kamarie Brown, a 20-year-old student now at Spelman College, who discovered a passion for education equity. At just 17 years old, she was the first Black female ever to be selected to the student seat on the Los Angeles County School Board, the second largest school district in our Nation. It is thanks to Kamarie's leadership that students in L.A. have access to greater resources that they need to thrive. She secured unanimous support for resolutions that leveraged district funding to improve the communities around her, beyond the walls of Crenshaw High School. It is young leaders like Kamarie, who don't sit on their hands and stand idle as the world passes them by. It is the stories of Generation Now, who believe that their lives can add up to something more that truly inspires them. As I take my seat, I offer again the clarion call that was shared with this body and the world almost 3 years ago to the day. On January 20, 2021, Amanda Gorman, the youngest person ever to serve as the inaugural poet, said this: [W]e are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn't mean that we are striving to forge a union that is perfect. We are striving to form a union with purpose, to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man. And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know, to put our futures first, we must first put our differences aside. If our children are our future, let us be urgent about the promise of America. It must be that we put our future first because their lives are depending on us today. I yield the floor. (Applause.)