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The Day Hillary Clinton Set Me Free
There was a time, not so long ago, when I was desperate to see Hillary Clinton in the Oval Office.
As an aging feminist, I was beyond excited at the prospect of the United States finally inaugurating its first woman President. For many years I’d followed her career. I admired her intelligence, her calm temperament, her attention to detail and her ability to articulate complex ideas.
Entering the 2016 primary season, I was a big Hillary supporter. I so wanted a woman in that office. I had so much hope that this country would finally begin to step forward out of the dark ages and begin to put our misogyny behind us.
But I had to struggle with my progressive beliefs. It was pretty obvious that Hillary’s positions were far to the right of my own. Eventually, I became a Bernie supporter.
I canvassed for Bernie. I donated to his campaign. Phone banked, mailed out letters, joined focus groups. I went all-in for the first truly progressive presidential candidate I’d ever seen in my life.
Naturally, I voted for Bernie in the primary.
But when Hillary got the nomination, I put aside my disappointment and I supported her. With my time, my money, with my precious vote.
