Following My Heavy Heart
I am a big believer in the saying “everything happens for a reason”. It took me a while to realize its validity. I went through many ups and downs before I realized that the downs make the ups even higher. Through my almost twenty-one years on earth, I have been tried a countless number of times.
Nothing could have prepared me for November 8th.
I remember Election Night perhaps too vividly. I can tell you almost everything: what I was wearing during different times of the day, when I left class for the party, the moment I knew she was going to lose, the color of wall I pounded my fists on.
What I remember most clearly, besides the phonecall with my best friend, was standing in the stairwell of my campaign headquarters, looking up at the ceiling with tear-filled eyes, then screaming, “How could you let this happen?” It came out crackled at first, then from the bottom of my chest in a boom filled with enough emotion to collapse the walls that threatened to crush me.

I was talking to God. He was the one who made me believe in “everything happens for a reason”. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t spin this one. It wasn’t because she lost. It was bigger than that. How could something so evil and hateful win over love and togetherness? How could He let this happen?
It was my worst nightmare, coming to life in a way I never could have imagined. All I could do is sit in the stairwell and cry, occasionally saying something to no one in particular. All the air had been removed from my lungs. I couldn’t get the lump out of my gut for days, months even.
I didn’t know how I was going to recover from this defeat. I didn’t know what to do with my life. Was I still going to go into entertainment? Could I go into politics? Do I know enough to switch my career path? How was I going to respond to this?
Many people don’t understand why I was so heartbroken after the election. Some didn’t have to understand; friends from both sides of the aisle reached out and expressed their sympathies. The beautiful messages I received from friends, family, and complete strangers were the only things that gave me the strength to get out of bed. But of course, there were also not so kind messages. The people setting their profile pictures as Hillary supporters crying. The friends who didn’t get it and didn’t care to get it.
“Get over it!”
Those words sting. They still do. When something that meant so much of you ends in tragedy, it’s not something you get over quickly. You might not get over it.
I’m learning that’s okay.
It has been 272 days since Election Day. There have been many tears. An added Political Science minor. More nights in than nights out. A major identity crisis. Depression. Lost friends, strengthened friendships, and new alliances. Too many orders from Amazon. Weight gains and losses. Failed ventures. Doubt. Sleepless nights.
And many Hillary Clinton interview binges.
I realized I was going through growing pains. They hurt a lot, but I can’t help but to think they’re going to amount to something better than I ever imagined.
I’m graduating in three years, becoming a member of the City Year Corps, and going into a life of public service. If you would have told me even two years ago that I’d be going into politics, I would have laughed. Many who don’t know me assume I’ve always been loud and opinionated. I didn’t know this was my calling until I was an apprentice to a nasty woman. Now, I can’t imagine living my life out in any other arena.
Many have asked me if I’d be going down this same path had she got elected. Or if I’m completely sure this is what I should be doing. I don’t know. The not knowing takes my breath away sometimes. As someone who has always had her life planned out, this isn’t exactly optimal.
What I do know is that I don’t want to look back and say I didn’t do anything when my daughter asks me about this time in history. We all are responding to this in our own ways. But I cannot ignore the nagging feeling that is telling me to enlist.
I don’t know where I’m going to end up on this journey. I could be a Communications Director, Digital Strategist, or maybe even a candidate. All I know is that I’m formally enlisting. I’m doing it for myself. I’m doing it for my country. I’m doing it for my future daughter(s).
And yes, I’m doing it in honor of Hillary.

272 days later, I am happy to announce that I have been accepted into the Clinton Global Initiative’s University program. I will be advocating for women’s health access on behalf of my beautiful friend and fellow activist Jordyn Rowland’s organization “The Menstruation Proclamation”. MPM aims to lessen the burden menstruating individuals feel every month when they struggle to scrape money together to afford pricey products. Together, we are also working out ways to incorporate trans and non-conforming issues into our plans and messaging. I am so grateful that Jordyn allowed me to propose this initiative to the Clinton Foundation and am overjoyed that they have taken it on. Please consider following MPM as it expands to greater heights!
In addition to attending the Global Initiative, I have tons of exciting opportunities lined up, ones I would have never dreamed of being offered. It’s crazy to think of where I started this year and where I’ll be ending it. I have many people to thank: my family, friends, Somerville team, fellow “Shills”, the Pantsuit Nation, followers, subscribers…and of course Hillary Rodham Clinton. But at the end of the day, I’m really proud of the person I’m becoming. I think this is the first time I can confidently say that.
I’m not trying to make sense of what happened or the current state of affairs. “Everything happens for a reason” is too simplistic to apply here. I share my story because it’s one I know many identify with and it’s not one that is not often told in the media. I know so many are struggling right now. What I want to leave you with is this: have faith. Whether it be in God, yourself, the universe, or a combination of all three: it is everything. As a wise woman once said:
“Faith is like stepping off a cliff and expecting one of two outcomes - you will either land on solid ground or you will be taught to fly.”
I may be still finding my wings, but I believe that following my heavy heart will take me to extraordinary places. Fighting for what’s right will always be worth it. Always. I believe that now more than ever. Onward.

