History was made as Sarah McBride triumphed in Delaware, becoming the first openly transgender person elected to Congress, proving that representation matters—even in a world filled with increasingly bizarre anti-LGBTQ legislation.

McBride's election not only marks a significant milestone for representation in Washington but also comes as a beacon of hope among a slew of anti-LGBTQ rhetoric and laws popping up like weeds. With her track record of activism and three million dollars in campaign funds, she plans to cut through partisan gridlock, focusing on vital issues like healthcare and wage increases—all while reminding Congress that it’s possible to be both fabulous and functional.

Defeating Republican John Whalen III, McBride not only claimed Delaware's sole House seat but also the title of 'First Openly Transgender Congressperson'—a title that admittedly doesn't come with its own mascot. Her historic win is significant in an era where legislative decisions can easily feel like a bad rerun of 'What We Shouldn't Do.' It's hard to overlook the timing of her election as well, where every headline about anti-LGBTQ laws seems to be paired with a side of anguish and disbelief. Yet, for McBride, this is a moment of celebration and a chance to push back against those unjust laws with the fortitude of a seasoned activist.

Prior to her congressional debut, McBride served as Delaware's highest-ranking transgender lawmaker as a state senator, which many agree is not unlike being the favorite child in a family of overachievers. Having gained national recognition for her advocacy, she’s practically a household name in progressive circles—unless your household has a definite disdain for anything labeled as 'progressive.' As a pioneer, she previously made headlines by being the first openly transgender person to address a major U.S. political convention, a feat that involved considerable poise and a strong WiFi signal.

But it wasn’t just political charm and charisma that got McBride elected; her efforts were largely funded by a staggering $3 million worth of donations from across the country—a figure that might inspire some to ask how they can also cash in on that fundraising magic. While many candidates struggle to find a few decent dollars, McBride’s campaign resembles a celebrity charity gala where no one has to pretend to enjoy the silent auction items. Her approach to campaigning reflects her values: inclusive and comprehensive, like a buffet that caters to every dietary restriction known.

In her congressional tenure, McBride has outlined clear policy priorities. From affordable healthcare and reproductive rights to raising the minimum wage, her agenda feels like a comprehensive list for 'How to Make America Less Terrible.' Kelley Robinson, president of the Human Rights Campaign, described McBride's victory as a landmark achievement for equality. 'It signifies a societal thirst for inclusion,' she stated, undoubtedly in low-light conditions, perhaps to create a modest mood for such bold declarations.

One can’t overlook McBride's previous experience in the White House as an intern during the Obama administration, where she made history as the first out transgender woman to hold such a position. In today's parlance, this means that McBride was an eager worker bee before she became the Queen Bee of progressive change. She has formed a close relationship with President Joe Biden, a connection that undoubtedly includes exchanging good-natured banter and, on occasion, having a shared moment of silence over their growing collection of political paraphernalia.

As the now-former seat holder, Lisa Blunt Rochester has now set her sights on the Senate, leaving McBride with the responsibility of navigating the choppy waters of Congress. Thankfully, she’s already equipped with the wisdom of the years and the ability to say, 'If I can survive this campaign cycle, I can survive anything.' McBride champions a cooperative approach, aiming to work through partisan gridlock—an endeavor akin to threading a needle while simultaneously solving a Rubik's Cube.

For McBride, representation is not just about breaking barriers; it's about building bridges. As legislative battles loom ahead, her commitment to policy over petty politics is sure to resonate with those who have long wished for change. As she walks the halls of Congress, one can only hope she carries with her the resolve of someone who knows that actual progress can involve real people making real decisions—and not just endless debates about who needs what kind of cake at fancy political functions.

As her memoir, 'Tomorrow Will Be Different,' has already suggested, McBride's journey as a transgender rights activist is a testament to resilience, genuine engagement, and perhaps a dash of sarcasm—qualities that will undoubtedly serve her well in the legislative arena. The hope is that Congress will come to understand: one of the keys to progress may just be accepting that things can be fabulous while still being functional. And if nothing else, that should leave the floor open for some serious conversations—albeit with some stylish kickbacks.