Ladies and Gentlemen of the House,

We gather here today amid a great change in the constitution of this body. Nearly a quarter of the men and women who sat here on my side of the aisle just one year ago are gone—swept away at the polls by the sovereign voice of the people in their ballots on November 7.

Such change has become a constant in our lives in a now-continental society given to turbo-capitalism and the continual revolution of science. Still, some realities are impervious to the emotions agitated by the media or the ideologies by which our political parties contend for the right to govern. Still our budget must be balanced. Still we have problems to address that defy simple remedy. Still we will have important issues to debate—and to decide. And, still we need to make our way to a discourse and decisions worthy of the complex Commonwealth we assemble today to serve.

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Two generations ago—in 1955—Wm F. Buckley Jr. defined a Conservative as “someone who stands athwart history, yelling Stop, at a time when no one is inclined to do so.” Probably all 100 of us here today can agree on one thing at least, which is that History did not stop, and much of the social and political order of our parents’ generation has been swept away—largely by technologies and pharmaceuticals that may prove as destructive of human nature as they are alluring to human appetites.

How can History be ‘stopped’—or even slowed—when science dissolves even whole societies’ let alone the individual’s ability to maintain traditional norms—or our fabled American sense of self-government, and independence of judgment? A litany of thinkers has attempted to answer those questions—among the most notable being Aldous Huxley, author of Brave New World; C.S. Lewis, author of The Abolition of Man; George Orwell, with whose 1984 or Animal Farm many of us will be familiar.

My own litany of prophetic voices about the fragility of ordered liberty and the sundry threats to human dignity begins with Plato, who well warns that democracies invariably tend—and end—in tyranny. The Framers of our Constitution understood this, and so bequeathed us republican—emphatically small r—forms to channel democratic passions.

More recently, Jacob Burckhardt forewarned in the 1890s that the challenges of modern cities and economies would tempt the masses to choose “terrible simplifiers” to impose a single, totalitarian remedy to the new problems of “modern life”…

Ortega in 1932 warned of “the revolt of the masses” against all forms of superior achievement; Tocqueville a century earlier wondered if we Americans, in our preoccupation with equality, would at last subvert liberty through a “mass conformism” that would instantiate a “soft despotism” every bit—and more—tyrannical than the “hard” dictatorships of armed ideologies.

And Christopher Lasch, who in 1979 suggested that the social changes Tocqueville, Burckhardt, and others noticed in the 19th Century led to “an historical period characterized by…[an increasing number of individuals] in a state of marked narcissism with all its pathological symptoms.”

The reference is to our period…to us.

It will come as no surprise to this audience that I define myself as a Conservative. But what, I constantly ask myself, can the Conservative hope to conserve—to do—when Constant Change is the dynamic engine of society, economy, and polity?

My answer is, the Conservative can bear witness to truths that have been tested by time and transmitted by tradition. For example, no matter how high the federal debt becomes, one and one still equals two, and no people can thrive who spend beyond their means. The day may come when voters break entirely with such truths, but still one can bear witness.

This approach is what Edmund Burke described as “the cake of custom.” Custom can be broken, or abandoned, but even then, there remains one creed—one fragment of custom, as it were—that is impervious and equal to all change. That custom is charity.

Indulge a veteran of two decades in these chambers to invite all of us, amid the “sound and fury” that will invariably occur in coming weeks, to remember that, in the end, Shakespeare found it all to signify only “nothing.” “Nothing,” that is, compared to the principles and the experiences that endure.

As an example of this, the oldest of all the traditions extolled by the Conservative, I deeply regret that we will not any longer be practicing one of the most ancient of all customs of the House of Delegates. Of course I bow to the decision of our constituted authority, but in doing so I am compelled to bear witness to what I believe is the Conservative’s obligatory response to the “Brave New World” upon which we are entered.

And so, to Delegate Ken Plum of the 36th District I say, Sir, no matter how now I must address you in this chamber, and though we will continue to vote differently on a wide array of issues, you will remain for me The Gentleman from Fairfax. The same is true for everyone in every seat in this body, for each of you has been elected to represent the constituents of your district on the terms by which you campaigned for their votes. Congratulations, and Welcome.

May we differ, but never demean; may we listen as well as clamor; and may many of us emerge in mid-March—as Aristotle would have us do—in a kind of friendship that transcends solely partisan obligations and opens us to the cooperation required for us to serve together our common weal.

Yesterday was an historic day in the almost 400-year history of the Virginia House. Twenty-eight women took the oath of office.

We’ve never had more than nineteen women at any one time – followed by falling back to just having thirteen or fourteen. The Virginia Senate broke through the 20% ceiling more than a decade ago. Well, it may have taken the House longer, but yesterday we didn’t just crack the ceiling, we shattered it!

A little history: In 1924, the first two women were elected to the House. By 1933, a total of six had served. But that marked the end of women in the House for the next two decades. The next woman didn’t take her seat until 1954. She was joined four years later by two more women and another in 1960, for a total of four.

I want to give these four women (three Democrats and one Republican) special recognition because they are truly women of courage. No women at all for 20 years and then these four isolated human beings took their seats. They were not only isolated as women … but they came to this body with the conviction that massive resistance must end … they stood against a power structure that would close public schools rather than open them to blacks.

One of these women was my mentor, Dorothy McDiarmid, who ultimately rose to be Chair of the powerful Appropriations Committee as well as the first woman to serve on Rules. She wanted me to run, and a key part of her approach was getting me down here as her aide so I would have a real view of how I would balance family with the world of the General Assembly. This exposure included the curmudgeon role her husband played in supporting her, a role my husband fully embraced as we worked our way through how both he and I could thrive within the changing roles for women.

When I took my seat in 1982, there had been only twenty-one women who’d ever sat in this Chamber. The great thing, though, was that the women’s rights movement had spurred a record election of four women that year. Now there were a total of eight women in the House and they’d run out of traditional women’s committees to put us on. I’m sure it was with Dorothy’s help that I got my first choice: it was not a “women’s” committee but the Finance Committee, to carry on the tax research I’d done to get school funding which had led to a job with the Fairfax Chamber to expand the business tax base. Traditional roles for women had begun to crack … ever so slightly. And I would be less than honest if I didn’t note that most of us felt the pressure to be twice as good to keep any opportunity open. In the words of the time, Fred Astaire got the starring role while Ginger Rogers did it in high heels and backwards!

The next big crack came with a 1983 court ruling that forced new House districts to be drawn under the Federal Voting Rights Act. Professor Yvonne Miller was the first black woman seated in the House, followed the next Session by Delegates Christian and Cunningham. The traditional look of the House had begun to change.

Today, the leadership of all women of color is now not just a given in the communities of their heritage, it is a flourishing – particularly tough – fiber in the fabric of this body.

I say that because while I only carry the label “woman,” the challenges of that label give me some appreciation for what makes the core of any woman particularly tough when she also carries the label of a stereotyped minority. To be a survivor, they’ve had to reach deep to know who they truly are no matter what anyone says. These women are strong, but they’re also often acutely aware of the plight of others. Good qualities in a public servant.

The 2018 class of twelve women, added to the sixteen of us who welcome them, includes attorneys, administrators, healthcare professionals, educators, social workers, small business women, realtors, former local elected officials, consultants, congressional staff, a journalist, and, in a class by herself, a cyber security specialist. This range of professional experience is the real world of women.

When I came in, I was the first woman to have kids in school … high school! The class of 2018 multi-tasks like you wouldn’t believe. I stand in awe as their nurturing hearts seem to focus their capable minds for a full package of doing what needs to be done. These women are living proof: Traditional roles are part of the package … they are not the whole package.

I repeat, this is today’s real world for women. Their competence and life experience will enrich our full consideration of public policy … just as those who came before opened their colleagues’ awareness … and opened doors! (Like the door to the lounge on the House floor where legislative relations are shaped but which was once firmly closed to women.) Of course, I could go on, like not realizing I should have asked permission to wear pants, or missing votes because the ladies room was way down the hall at the rotunda. The importance of any of such quaint history is that the House got through it.

As of yesterday, I became the longest serving woman in the House, going beyond Delegate McDiarmid’s twenty-six years. So, having lived it, I’m here to tell you a little bit of change here and there to embrace diversity has served the body well. What is even more important, Virginia has been better served … and will be better served. On behalf of all the women who’ve come before, welcome to the women of 2018. Here’s to the future.