I am so excited to vote this year.
Which is why I’m so sick of the shit that is happening right now. I’m sick of women prefacing their support for Hillary Clinton’s historic moment with tepid things like, “I know a lot of people are disappointed today but…”
Get the fuck out of here. I am not about to preface my pride with anything. I’m not going to smile politely and pretend that I’m not just straight up proud right now: Proud to be a woman. Proud of Hillary Clinton. Proud of this moment. And no, Bernie Bros, I don’t just want “a vagina” in the White House. I want this particular pragmatic politician in the White House. I like that she’s pragmatic, by the way. That’s one of the reasons I’m voting for her.
Why the hell do I have to worry about hurting someone’s feelings as the shards of glass shatter around us? Why can’t I just cherish this moment? Why must I worry about you? Is it because women are always taught to be polite and worry about other peoples comfort and concerns over their own?
I’m not here for that. I’m here to celebrate.
Full disclosure: I’ve been a Clinton fan since I was a teenager. I voted for Bill Clinton when I was at college in London. It was my first election. I proudly went to the post office to send in my ballot. I told the disinterested guy at the window with a big grin,
“This is my first election!”
He looked down at the ballot, looked back up and me, frowned under his mustache and said,
“I wouldn’t give ya 5 pence for the lot of ’em.”
His lack of enthusiasm did not dampen my excitement. No one was happier than me, watching Bill and Hillary dance at the Inaugural Ball, on my tiny TV, in my shithole basement flat in Bayswater. I felt that I was part of something important.
So as I watched the media continually take shots at her, tear her down, shred her, I got more and more infuriated. By the time I’d moved to New Orleans to finish my education, it had reached a fever pitch. The infamous photos of her serving chocolate chip cookies had been released, after she’d said she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to bake cookies.
Political pundits ripped apart her opinions, looks, Health Care ideas, and everything else. I’d had it. So I did something a little embarrassing for a college student in her junior year…I sent Hillary Clinton a fan letter. From my shithole New Orleans apartment. Written on my crumb-covered Brother Word Processor. I told her I was angry with the way the press treated her. I told her I believed in her ideas. I told her how much it meant to me and other young women that she was taking a strong role as First Lady. Amazingly, she wrote me back. I hadn’t looked at the letter in years. But when I went to help my mom clear out the apartment after my dad died a couple months ago, I actually found the letter she wrote me. Here it is:
So to all the Hillary Clinton supporters out there–seize this moment. Enjoy it. Don’t apologize for it. It’s yours. It’s OURS. And it’s pretty damn cool.