The president could use a touch-up.

Between important decisions — like whether meetings still require a parliamentarian — and practicing her speech, Arielle Green hasn’t had time to refresh her makeup, let alone affix her gold headband. She still wears her tie-dyed T-shirt with all the Sharpie signatures from school field day — not the best attire for an evening awards ceremony.

Such is the schedule of the busy Student Council president of Rossville Elementary, who happens to be the daughter of state Del. Kim Ross, just months into her new job. Luckily, Mom has arrived with the makeup bag. She whisks Arielle out of the meeting and walks her back, all fixed-up, before the group begins voting on the council parliamentarian role for the next year.

Teacher and advisor Dominique Dixon doesn’t miss a beat.

”You are going to have to navigate this conversation," she tells Arielle, “and then get out the vote.”

It’s unanimous: The council doesn’t need a parliamentarian and will instead install two secretaries to assist the future president.

For the past decade, Arielle Green has been watching her mother ascend the ranks of leadership, from homeowner association president to Democratic Central Committee member to, now, the first Black female delegate representing her East Side district.

In addition to her love of dance, sports and performing (she was the lead, Ariel, in Rossville’s first school play, the “The Little Mermaid”), Arielle also is interested in being a leader.

Just like her mom.

“I want to be a lawyer, and then turn into a judge, but I also might want to stay a designer,” said Arielle, who’s in the fifth grade. “I definitely know how to tell when things are right and wrong, and I have forgiveness in my heart, but I definitely know when things should have a consequence.”

Arielle’s leap into leadership comes at a bleak time for diversity, equity and inclusion efforts nationally.

The Trump Administration is stripping all federal departments of their efforts to focus on diverse and equitable hiring practices. That has led to the firing of prominent Black women leaders, such as Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden — the first Black woman to serve in the role and the former director of Baltimore’s Enoch Pratt Library. Trump also fired Gwynn Wilcox, the first Black woman to serve on the National Labor Relations Board, on the eve of Black History Month.

The Trump administration has scrubbed mentions of prominent Black American women from government websites. The National Park Service removed the words “Harriet Tubman,” “African American,” “bondage,” “enslavement,” “self-emancipation,” and even “escape” from its Underground Railroad page; the National Cryptologic Museum covered up accomplishments of women and people of color. The Naval Academy removed 400 books, among them works by author Maya Angelou. After a public outcry, some of these changes were reversed, but restoring what’s been lost, let alone pushing forward, can be exhausting for Black leaders.

“We teach our children that leaders care about you, and part of that caring is opening doors for people who otherwise would not have access to those opportunities,” Ross said. “That is confusing to people. These opportunities need to be there to level the playing field so we can help advance people who deserve that.”

Ross, a communications and editorial executive, said she’s always been a leader in her community. She was appointed as a delegate after the Baltimore County Council tapped state Sen. Kathy Klausmeier to replace Johnny Olszewski Jr. as county executive (Olszewski took a seat in Congress) and then-Del. Carl Jackson moved up to Klausmeier’s Senate seat, leaving an opening.

Despite her busy schedule, Ross finds time to volunteer at her daughter’s school — something the principal, Kevin Jennings, says he appreciates. Like Ross, Jennings is in the class of firsts — the first Black man in the county to become an elementary principal. There are 109 public elementary schools in the county. Three years after Jennings’s appointment, only two have Black male principals.

Rossville was a new school, so Jennings hand-picked his teachers, mindful that the school population is more than half African American and also has significant Asian and Hispanic populations. Each grade has at least one male teacher, a rarity in elementary schools outside of gym class. Many teachers are Black women, like Dixon. It’s been a supportive envelope for Arielle, who Jennings believes is well-prepared for middle school leadership should she choose it.

“She’s very bright, very kind, and she has a lot of personality,” he said. “We’re all very proud of her.”

Other Black women who are vying to be “the first” are also taking their daughters with them. They say showing what’s possible is even more important now.

Sharonda Huffman, who is running to become the first Black woman on the Baltimore County Council, brings her daughter, Morgan, to meetings where new political lines are discussed before a council expansion.

“I’m running to make the world easier for her to thrive in,” Huffman said.

Mekeda Scott, also running to become the first Black woman on the council, already has charted a first — in 2020, she became the first Black woman elected chair of the Baltimore County Board of Education. Scott also brought her daughter with her while she campaigned, along with a basketball and a chess board. When she walked into schools, girls told her they didn’t see a lot of people who looked like her in positions of power.

“They would ask me, ‘Miss Scott, were you scared when you ran?’ And I thought about it, and I said, ‘Sometimes I am a little nervous, but it doesn’t stop me, and it shouldn’t stop you.’”

At the end of the school year, there are a lot of “lasts.”

Last time to sign the yearbook, last hugs until fall. The Rossville Royals are ready for their farewell ceremony, and Arielle Green is to give the address.

She ascends the stage, remembering Dixon’s admonition: Breathe from your diaphragm. She is nervous, but that doesn’t stop her.

“This is not the end,” she said. “It’s just the beginning of our next adventure, so hold your head high. And never forget … Rossville Elementary … WHOSE HOUSE?”

With that, dozens of fifth-graders rise and respond: “OUR HOUSE.”