Dear Hillary, Love A Young Woman



Wow. This is crazy. Just a few days ago, I had envisioned an entirely different type of piece I was going to write for you. I know you envisioned the situation differently too. But, even though it’s difficult to find the right words, I didn’t want to be silent, I didn’t want to sit and stew. I realized something important: nothing that happened on Tuesday night would change what I wanted to say to you. 

You are so so brave. I feel like you would dismiss that compliment. But truly you are. You put so many people on your back and marched forward; you kept your head facing forward even as naysayers lined either side of your road shouting you down. I’ve met a lot of brave women, and I’ve read and heard stories about even more, but you’re something really special. You taught me the quiet bravery -not flashy and too often overlooked- of a day-to-day battle against what has been, a battle for what could be. 

I had to listen to a lot of people badmouth you these past months- people so sure in their assessment of you as representative of all that’s wrong with government. They dismissed your years of service by shoving you in a box, labeling it with the word “insider,” and casting it aside. They didn’t see you the way I did. When I could, I defended you. But even that I probably should’ve done better. What can I say? I’m not as brave as you.

I’m sorry. I know how hard you dreamed of being able to sit behind that desk and run the show. You’ve been dreaming about it longer than I’ve been alive. You worked so hard for it too. To me you were the human incarnation of the phrase, ‘hard work pays off.’ Tuesday doesn’t change that. For so many of us your victory would’ve been a triumph of hard work over flash. You said this again and again and it means so much to hear: nothing you’ve achieved has come easily. It’s the lesson I want the world to know, that the best things come in life to those who work for them. This is a truth that I will never forget. Despite all appearances, Tuesday can’t change that. One election can’t change that. 

If this is your last stand in presidential politics, I want you to know how grateful I am for you. You trudged forward through the mud and never lost sight of what makes this country great. And you put those little cracks in the highest glass ceiling which will enable someone to break it more easily. I hope that happens soon, but if it doesn’t, I won’t ever forget all of the women who came first and fought for that dream. I won’t ever forget you. You saw the world for the good. You didn’t capitalize on people’s fears and you didn’t threaten innocent people. You understood the lesson that America, as a whole, is slow to accept: diversity isn’t a fault, it’s a virtue. You are a role model to me. 

The most important thing I want to say to you is that you’ll never lose me. I was behind you this election and I’ll be behind you for as long as I live. You are one badass nasty woman. And you know what? I love you even more for it. Whatever you decide to do next, you’ll have me behind you. Not in a creepy way, I promise.

And while I’m sad now, I know your story will inspire more and more women to rise up and fight for positive change, and to fight not just for a seat at the table, but a seat at the head of the table. One day all of the work that’s been done before us, and all of the work you’ve done now, will come to fruition and we’ll see a woman lead our country. I’m just sorry it couldn’t be you. 

You have all my love, support and trust.



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