Your Presence is Your Legacy

What it means to be seen — and what it means to be the one someone else sees.

By Sheronda Grant  |  We Are Strong Enough

You may not know who is watching you — but someone is.

There is a woman somewhere — maybe a recruit in the academy, maybe a young girl in the community, maybe an officer two ranks below you — who is watching how you carry yourself, how you lead, how you handle the hard moments, and how you show up every single day.

Your presence in that uniform, on patrol, in the detective bureau, as a forensics investigator, as civilian staff, tells her that accomplishing her goals is possible in ways she may not have believed before she saw you in your role. It tells her that her dreams are worth striving for, that she is strong enough to accomplish whatever she sets out to do, and that the path she is considering is one that women like her have already walked.

Your presence matters. You matter. So keep going.

The importance of representation.

Many years ago, two police recruiters came to my high school — one was a Latino male officer and one was a Black female officer. I didn’t pay much attention to the male officer because I was entirely focused on the female officer. We didn’t look alike, but I saw myself in her, and that changed what I believed was possible for me.

She was pretty, and what struck me was that she didn’t appear to be less of a cop because she was pretty — and she didn’t appear less than a woman because she was a cop. She was both, fully, unapologetically, and her presence was powerful enough to make me think that maybe I could do the job too.

As she explained the benefits of the profession, it dawned on me that I didn’t have to look a certain way to wear this badge. In that moment, I understood clearly that I didn’t have to be a certain kind of person or fit a certain type of mold — I just had to be willing to show up and do the work.

That recruiter probably has no idea what she did for me that day, her just being herself inspired me possibly without her intention and that is precisely what the power of presence means in this context.

Representation is powerful and works even when you don’t know it’s working.

Ada Wright told me I have power.

Ada Wright became Milwaukee’s first female sworn patrolman on April 21, 1975 — one of the first in the state of Wisconsin — the first woman to wear the same uniform as the men, carry the same firearm, and do the same work. On day one she showed up ready to do her job, and on day one she made history. Being the first is a heavy weight to carry, and I revere her for it because I cannot imagine what she endured and overcame to remain in law enforcement for 26 years.

She once told me that she would have resigned after a year or two to return to the Department of Agriculture, but some of the men tried so hard to make her leave that she refused to quit. She also explained that she worked alongside men who didn’t see her gender as an issue, and that her field training officer — who didn’t necessarily care for women on the job — knew that her training would be a reflection of him, so he taught her everything he knew, for which she was genuinely grateful.

I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing Ada on occasion and the honor of speaking with her on a regular basis. During our conversations she explained that she deeply understood the importance of representation, and she taught me what it truly means to be the “first.” “You set the bar, you set the standard for how those who come after you will be treated,” is what she told me more than a decade ago — words I hold onto each day, knowing that I stand on her shoulders and on the shoulders of so many who came before me and made an impact.

When I sat down with her years ago, she said something I have never forgotten. She looked at me and said: “You have power.” I had no idea what she meant — was she referring to legitimate power because I was a sergeant, or reverent power because I had influence? After our conversation, it hit me: my presence alone is powerful, and I set the tone for how I want to be treated and how others will be treated around me.

She wasn’t talking about rank or authority. She was talking about presence — about influence, about the ability to walk into a room and change the atmosphere not through fear or intimidation, but through the force of who you are and how you choose to carry yourself.

Presence is power, and it travels further than you can see from where you are standing.

Your career is changing what is possible for someone you may never meet.

Ada Wright was the first, and her career changed what was possible for women in law enforcement across the state of Wisconsin, especially in the city of Milwaukee. She opened a door and held it open for so many other women to walk through, and had she lacked the determination to stay, or to do well, it could have prolonged the time before other women had the opportunity to take on that role. Due to her tenacity, many women entered the door she held open — the recruiter who came to my high school walked through that same door, my mother walked through that same door, and every woman who rose through the ranks walked through it and held another door open for others to follow.

Your career — the way you carry yourself, the way you lead, the way you show up on the hard days — is changing what is possible for someone you may never meet. She may not know your name yet. She may not be in your district. She may be a teenager in the community who sees you on patrol and quietly thinks she could do that too, or a new officer who watches how you handle conflict and decides to stay in this profession because of what she witnessed in you. You will never know the full reach of your presence, and that is both the weight and the gift of it.

That is the legacy of women in law enforcement. It is built one presence at a time.

You are enough and you have power.

When women see other women with a powerful presence — a presence used for good, for impact, for the elevation of others — it is inspiring in a way that gives permission to the woman who hasn’t yet stepped into her own power to believe that she can. What I most want the women watching me to see is this: you are enough. Your presence is enough, your hard work is enough, your empathy is enough, and you deserve to be respected not because of your rank or your title, but because of who you are and what you bring to this work.

I hope you see the inner strength you possess and recognize your power — not the power that creates fear, not the power that intimidates, because that is actually weakness. I hope you recognize the power you have to change culture, the power that makes the woman behind you walk into something better than what you walked into. Use your presence to make positive impact, to open doors, and to show someone who is watching that she belongs here too.

Keep showing up, keep leading, and keep being exactly who you are — because someone is watching, and what they see in you is changing what they believe is possible for themselves.

Thank you to all of the women who have come before me.

Was there a woman in your life or your career whose presence showed you what was possible? Tell me about her in the comments — I read every one.

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