It is a grey day, the first after a stretch of sunny days. Waking up to the gloom and chill is a harsh reality to face after so many days of light, warmth, and melting snow. The world was just beginning to reveal itself again, and my spirits were lifted with it.
That is not so today. My spirits are overcast, just like the skies.
And while I could argue that my mood simply reflects the weather, it’s more than that.
Today is a grey day, but it is also the day that Elizabeth Warren has resigned as a democratic candidate for president.
This, too, has lowered my spirits.
Warren was my candidate, a progressive with a flawed past. But that past showed an ability to learn better and do better. Those who would critique her would focus on her imperfections and not her growth. Even when reading those accounts, however, I would Elizabeth Warren relatable. I, too, have been wrong in the past, have become aware of my mistakes, and have tried to do better. In that way, we don’t seem so different.
There is another way in which I relate to Warren: we are both women. I have long since stopped listening to people who tell me not to vote for candidates on the basis of similarities such as gender or skill color.
Furthermore, I know it matters when a woman is added to the table, whether that be in the boardroom or the Oval Office. It brings much-needed diversity. When you invite a woman, a person of color, a disabled person, a queer, or trans person to the table, you are inviting their life experience, an experience that 99% of the previous white, Christian, able-bodied, straight presidents have lacked. A person from a different background becomes the desirable 1%.
We know that this diversity helps companies, and I see why it should do no less for our country.
Of course, I am not opposed to our other progressive candidate. I have even voted for him before. The problem lies not in his politics but his identity, much of which is shared with those 99-percenters.
I will vote for Bernie again, and I will do so with only a little chagrin. He was my second choice, after all.
However, he wasn’t my first choice. And because of the staggered primary voting schedule in this country — just one of many issues I have with the process — I will have to vote for Bernie. Warren has left the race, and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to vote for her in my state’s primary.
So, yes, I am disheartened. And worried. I worry not just because I am unsure if Bernie can beat Biden let alone trump. I worry that every time a woman runs from president and “fails,” we are that much further from having a president whose life experience in any way matches mine. I worry still that even if we do elect a woman president, the misogynists will come out in full force after her term and vote for a sexist pig to lead our country, much like the racists did after Obama’s two terms.
I wish I could not worry, even while knowing how much privilege that involves. I am not that privileged, however. I do worry. I care.
I care enough to write a blog post about Elizabeth Warren dropping out of the presidential race when I have not even opened a tab to discuss my own personal life.
But therein lies the crux of the issue. The political is personal. Lke I recently posted on Facebook, it always has been, and I do not see it changing in my lifetime.
This is about Elizabetha, but it’s also about Amy, Kirsten, Hillary, and Victoria god-damned Woodhull, all women who were brave enough to run for president yet were not perfect enough to be seen as electable. As if all the men who have successfully made it into office were perfect.
It is about all the women who were laughed out of sight before they could throw their hats into the ring.
And, yes, it is about me, an American woman. So, of course, it makes me worry, but it also makes me angry.
Perhaps if more people were angry, the detractors could no longer use that as a reason why a woman is “unelectable.” Perhaps a woman younger than I would not have to feel worry and anger like I do now. Perhaps a newly-minted voter, like my sister will soon be, will be able to live in a world where a woman is electable as President of the United States and know she is not just living in a man’s world, a world that makes so many days gloomy in spite of the sun shining brightly.
I worry, but I also hope.