Sen. Sinema: The outsider is in

I spied a woman in a purple and silver wig, walking around the Senate floor with astronaut Mark Kelly, who was newly sworn in as a Democratic senator from Arizona.

Bewildered by her get-up, unsure what she was doing, I asked the woman by the elevator, "Sorry, but who are you?"

"I'm Senator Sinema," she replied cheerfully.

And that still is the question of the hour. Who are you, Sen. Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona, and what are you doing?

On paper, she's a freshman Democrat. In real life, she's a woman who has crashed her own political party, giving a patient president heartburn in postponing his dearest political dreams. Build Back Better, President Joe Biden's social infrastructure package, has yet to pass after months in limbo. In politics, sooner is always better than later. Biden missed an opportunity to go to a climate summit with major legislation in his pocket.

If it weren't a 50-50 Senate, the flaws and foibles of a freshman wouldn't matter much. But it is and it does. Sinema (along with Joe Manchin, a West Virginia Democrat) hold up the Democratic train as if there is all the time in the world to delay its departure, with governor races on the line.

To Sen. Bernie Sanders' vocal distress, Sinema stood against lowering the cost of prescription drugs. The pharmaceutical industry is a big donor to her campaign funds.

Even more astounding, Sinema didn't give a nickel or dime when Biden met face to face with her about raising taxes to pay for the new New Deal he put forth as his legacy. The corporate rate would go from 21% to 28%. She refused to back down. Her strength or his weakness: you tell me.

Democrats had to scramble to find another way to pay for the package, by a higher tax on wealthy individuals.

Here's where it gets interesting - or confusing. In the House, Sinema opposed the 2017 Trump tax cuts, which slashed the corporate rate from 35% to 21%.

Manchin is a consistent gadfly, while Sinema shifts in the wind.

Sinema's style as a legislator is as curious as her bright, loud color palette. A piece of work, she looks like pop art in a gallery of old masters. She doesn't explain her stances to colleagues or to the press. "Call my office" is a rote response to reporters when we are standing in front of her.

This radio silence can be maddening. Manchin, bless his heart, engages with all comers in good faith. He killed paid leave and the clean energy program with his bare hands, but people feel he levels with them.

Sinema seldom speaks on the floor but makes a statement every time she walks in to vote. No Daniel Webster, she expresses herself in the language of clothes.

There's a certain defiance in being the first senator to wear pink sneakers. Often there's an orange or red formfitting frock that shows curves like they've never been seen before on the staid Senate floor.

Truly the young freshman, only 45, confounds many of the Senate elders - and likes it that way. At first, press correspondents thought it refreshing to see her stand out against a dark sea of suits. Bare arms were an idea whose time had come.

Many thought Sinema was a harmless spectacle in her brazen "Dangerous Creature" shirt or denim vest as she presided over the august body. She was just sowing her wild oats, so we thought.

Coming from the House, Sinema was not known for much except her Ironman triathlon training. Significantly, she was one of a handful who voted against Speaker Nancy Pelosi of California as the Democratic leader.

That vote against the popular Pelosi foretold a desire to be different. In fact, Sinema is different, as a girl who grew up in a gas station, later becoming a social worker who got a law degree.

Perhaps she is saying - without saying - that she is an outsider in the clubby Senate. Its codes, traditions and pyramids mean little to her, who got there without the right credentials or privileges.

If Sinema cared enough, she's capable of much more.

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