Christina McKelvie’s magic is what all of us should aspire to

I’ve purposefully taken my time in putting my words together since her passing, mostly because it’s a struggle to find words that are big and bold enough to describe the presence that she was – and will always be.

It was a hard listen, but perfectly fitting of the woman she was, and although she was notably physically absent from the chamber that she so belonged in, the spirit she embodied was as present in that room as it ever had been before.

For that hour, there was no party politics and no political borders. It was a gathering of colleagues, from all backgrounds and persuasions, united for their friend and fellow parliamentarian. They laughed together as they recalled her pure and utter defiance of the patriarchy in every which way, and cried together in honour of the vibrant life that she led – and the many lives that she touched along the way.

READ MORE: SNP's Keith Brown pays tribute to 'star' partner Christina McKelvie

An event that as many pointed out, was testament to the way Christina carried herself in life. I worked with Christina when I was in my very early 20s. I was painfully shy, ambitious, clueless. Autistic and undiagnosed, incredibly lost and entirely unsure of the path that I wanted to take or how to make the impact that I knew I wanted to.

The kind of young woman in desperate need of an influence like Christina McKelvie.

I was at the height of my activism with the Young Scots For Independence, so we had already met when she was appointed as minister for equalities and therefore my new boss. We weren’t supposed to pick favourites, but going into the civil service with party political experience, I definitely had mine and Christina, by a country mile or 10, was one of them.

When I knew the reshuffle was happening I had been quietly but rather fiercely hoping that it was her time to shine. Of all the MSPs it could have been, she was the obvious choice for the job at hand. She had spent not only a parliamentary career, but a lifetime standing shoulder to shoulder with the oppressed and – since her election in 2007 – lift as she rose in every conceivable way she could.

Rarely is there a perfect candidate for any role, but she was perfect for this one. Whether it was the working class, women and girls, the LGBTQ+ community, the gypsy traveller community, asylum seekers and refugees, she not only utilised the platform she had, she actively handed it to those communities who so badly needed to be heard.

In fact, it had been during lobbying efforts with the Time for Inclusive Education campaign, a campaign that saw inclusive LGBTQ+ education enshrined in the Scottish school curriculum, that I had met her earlier.

It is not an exaggeration to say that appointing her to that role in government was one of the best things that has ever happened to Scotland’s marginalised communities, a decision of course taken at the time by her friend, Nicola Sturgeon. I fear it would be needless to point out that she was another of my favourites, but I digress.

I remember the day I walked into Christina’s ministerial office for the first time, with my fiercely kind and dedicated colleague Karen who had somewhat taken me under her wing. With the warmest smile in the world, the kind that she was famous for, Christina beamed “Kelly! You’re friendly with my boy Jack aren’t you?”

READ MORE: Emotional MSPs pay tribute to Christina McKelvie as Holyrood flags fly at half-mast

Anyone who has ever worked with, known or been in the presence of Christina for even a short 10 minutes will know that the pride she took in her boys was the cornerstone of her existence, and my first professional encounter with her was, perfectly, as Christina as it came.

I told her that I did in fact know her boy, and that just like his mum, it was his warmth and kindness that had made me feel at home the first time I bit the bullet and attended an SNP event. That without his friendliness that day, I might never have found myself where I did. She told me it sounded exactly like him. She was right.

While working for Christina, it was personally one of – if not the most – challenging periods of my life. Struggling privately with undiagnosed autism and ADHD. Attempting to survive the disordered eating and suicidal episodes that were part and parcel of my misdiagnosis – it’s not an overstatement to say that I‘m lucky to have made it out of that period alive, I very nearly didn’t.

Despite my own personal hell, I was determined to do well in this job and I tried as hard as I could with the tools that I had. Karen and I would spend late nights in the office while she taught me how to write briefings and the intricacies of what Christina needed and didn’t – often the latter given that she was a bona fide expert on all things gender and age equality, the subject we worked on.

We accompanied Christina on ministerial visits and spent much of our time on the Scottish Government’s first national loneliness and isolation strategy that Christina had been so proud to front. We did a lot of incredible work and I learned so much.

They both knew that I was struggling to some extent, maybe not necessarily with what exactly. Quietly but intentionally, they nurtured and encouraged me when I had little else to keep me going and not many in my corner. When faced with so much despair, it was the warmth and kindness of these two scarily similar women that gave me the hope to keep going.

It’s impossible to measure the true impact of a woman of her calibre, but in the simplest of terms, this is what she meant to me. In the darkest and most vulnerable time of my life – without addressing it, free from judgement and just by being exactly who she was – she lifted me up and showed me the way. That’s who she was to her core, and how I will always remember her.

Her partner, Keith Brown MSP, made the point yesterday that when someone passes, there are often many kind words said and it’s quite easy to say kind words about someone after they have passed. But that the outpouring of love and support in the wake of Christina’s passing is genuinely reflective of the human being that she was – and he was spot on.

She was the perfect example of what a politician should be but rarely is, the perfect example of what a human being should be.

I will count myself lucky for the rest of my life that I got to experience her magic.