I’m Sorry, Hillary

Dear Hillary,

This probably won’t reach you. But maybe, in this age of social media, it will. Maybe an aide will read it.

I want to tell you that I am so very sorry. My heart just aches for you. I feel broken into, don’t you? Like this election reached into my body, pulled out my organs and stomped on them.

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to elect you — I gave you money but I did not go knock on doors.

I’m sorry that I did not have more to give.

And most of all I am sorry that you had to put up with Donald Trump, that the world made you take seriously a man with no experience, a man who so many of us know fundementally is unfit to take office. I am sorry that you had to hear him talk about grabbing women by the pussy. I am sorry you had to shake his hand. I am sorry you had to let him interrupt you, had to make the incredibly political move of not responding to his constant baiting.

I cannot shake the sense that we, as a country, have let you down. I cannot shake that sense because I think it is true. We had the chance to elect you, the most qualified person probably ever to run for President, and we failed.

Your country failed you, Hillary. I’m so very sorry. I just want to give you a huge hug. We don’t know each other — though many years ago we attended Foundary Methodist Church together — and I probably won’t meet you unless it is at a book signing somewhere. So I can’t hug you.

But I wish I could. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am that we let you down. You have never stopped fighting for us, and you never will. Please know that I see that about you. So do millions of other people around the world. We know you will never quit. We know it’s not in your nature. We know you aren’t going to just leave us. We know you will continue to inspire and push us to be the best versions of ourselves, the versions of ourselves that America needs. We know it because we know you, and we know you never, ever quit.

So I’m sorry, Hillary, that your country betrayed you. And I want to thank you for being with us as we roll up our sleeves, put on our best nasty women clothes, put away — as Obama said eight years ago — childish things, and get to work.

Love,

Vanessa Steck