…rts and crusty work boots. I welcomed moms with kids in strollers and people pushed in wheelchairs. I was the person who apologized to the woman in a hurry, because she was on her lunch break, and I had to tell her that the address on her ID didn’t match what was in the system. She moved to this neighborhood recently, but hasn’t had time to get her drivers license updated. There’s no way she can get to her old precinct and back in the 20 minutes she’s got left, and she’s crying, because she really wanted to vote. Or the woman who ran in at 6:57 p.m., breathless and hoping she wasn’t too late. We celebrated her as the last voter of the day. She cried too.
Hillary’s candidacy is allowed and designed by the patriarchy, and by design it leads to rejection. Because by the time we, as a people, are ready for a woman as our president, we are ready for so much more. Because by the time she made it to the upper ranks of the boy’s club, she’s just one of the boys.
Can I forgive Hillary for being a politician and not a revolutionary to awaken the generations of girls who will think of a woman being president as something that is, instead of something that might be, one day, maybe. Girl power?