Dogwood Thursday: November 10

Like everyone I know, the events of election day have found me stunned and upset.  I’d say that I’m angry, but that emotion doesn’t really plumb the depths of my disappointment and anxiety about Tuesday’s outcome.  Like so many other people, I was convinced that Hillary would win on Tuesday.  As the electoral college map began to fill with support for Donald Trump, I spent at least a few hours simply not believing what I was seeing.  It wasn’t just that Hillary was losing (even typing that word hurts), it’s that she was losing to Donald Trump.  He’s hateful, ignorant, unprepared, undeserving…there is no end to the ways this man is not suited for the responsibilities of the presidency.  To watch a woman candidate whom I admire and respect lose to Donald Trump. It’s painful.  And, as Hillary said on Wednesday, it’s going to hurt for a while.

On Wednesday, having stayed up half the night to watch the disaster unfold, T and I headed to work and then numbly texted one another.  At one point she noted that the squirrels didn’t look any different.  I thought of that this morning as I stepped outside to make a picture of the dogwood tree.

All the leaves are now gone, so it looks different than last week.  But the trunk stands sturdy and the empty branches are ready for winter.  There’s a strength in that kind of endurance.  Like the squirrels, the dogwood is doing what needs to be done.  

I think there’s a lesson in that for me.  I can’t change the fact that Donald Trump is the president-elect.  But winning the electoral college as he did doesn’t change the fact that Hillary won the popular vote.   As of this writing, she has the edge by more than 330,000 votes.  It’s not going to make a difference about who is in power, but it makes a difference to me.  More of us voted for unity and being stronger together than the reverse. That’s a glimmer of hope in a very grey landscape.

But it is hope; sturdy, solid, I’ll be-here-tomorrow hope.  I always say that I live in hope and I mean it.  And should hope prove elusive, the dogwood is just outside the window, reminding me that sturdy hope trumps hate.

For Hope, History, and Hillary

I’ve repeated this story so many times before, that you’d think I could let it go, but I have waited a long time for this day and I am so excited about the history unfolding  before us on this day.  I was 16 years old in 1984 when Geraldine Ferraro was nominated as a vice presidential candidate.  That year, my mother told me, “You’ll see a women in the White House by the time you are 40.”

I turned 49 just a few days ago.

This morning I stood in line with my ballot and then I voted for a woman presidential candidate.  I am excited to send her to the White House.  

I took my 16 year old son into the voting booth with me and we cast that ballot together.  I’ve waited a long time to make this vote and the moment was so powerful and so full.  It’s made better by the fact that we made history in 2008 when we selected Barack Obama as president.  I was proud of my nation in 2008; I am just as proud now.  To think that we will have a swath of American presidents who broke barriers, who created an inclusive kind of hope……well that is some heady business.

This is America when it has the potential to be both good and great.  We are showing our children what it looks like when a diverse and tolerant nation rises to the challenges of the modern world.  When I was 16, I imagined that this vote would feel especially rich if I had a daughter.  But today I am reminded that it is our daughters and our sons who benefit from this historic change.  My son was 8 years old when Barack Obama was elected president; at 16 he will see the first woman enter the White House as president.  His world has been shaped by the notion that we are better and stronger because of our diversity.    That is the kind of greatness in which I believe.

We are with her.  I won’t go to bed tonight until I know that the rest of the nation is with us.

I’m with Her

In 2007, Representative Nancy Pelosi was elected to the position of Speaker of the House, the first woman to serve in that capacity.  That year’s State of the Union address found me watching the first woman to sit behind the president at that address.  It was a heady moment for me, a 39 year old woman who had been waiting her whole life for the nation to fulfill its promise that equality included girls and women.  I watched Pelosi that night and felt like a few panes of the glass ceiling were ready to be shattered.

That year, I used Newsweek magazine to teach current events in my American government class.  The story that followed that State of the Union described the speech and the political leaders who were there.  It was required reading for my students as we prepared to discuss the agendas proposed by Republican and Democratic leaders.  Newsweek devoted an entire paragraph to a description of Nancy Pelosi’s appearance, right down to the color of her hair and her stylish shoes.  The appearance of the men in that room didn’t merit a mention.  For the men, the story talked about ideas.  For the one history-making woman in the room, it was the cut of her suit that mattered the most.  

I was furious and disappointed in equal measure.  How could I teach the young men and women in my classroom that it was ideas that mattered when it was clear that women’s ideas took a backseat to their hairstyles?   It was a very painful reminder that women and girls still had a long, long way to go.

Last night, 16 year-old-me watched side-by-side with my 16 year old son as a smart and accomplished woman accepted the nomination of her party to be our nation’s president.  She did it on her terms, embracing her identity as a mother and a woman and treating both as the superpowers they are.  

I am 48 years old and I have waited many years for this day.  I was excited about the moment but it wasn’t until Hillary Clinton settled into her speech last night that I realized how powerful it would feel to watch a woman in this position.  I cried for most of the speech; I am that woman who wears her emotions on her sleeve.  I cried because I am weary of the ways that women are marginalized for their accomplishments; held to a standard that is higher than men and always expected to do more for less.  There is a narrow path for women in authority; it’s the unspoken rules that are the most restrictive.  Hillary’s candidacy will challenge the unspoken rules and it’s about time we acknowledge that fact.  Last night, I shed some tears of pride and relief in equal measure.   I will live on political pins and needles until November but you can bet that when our sons and daughters wake up in a nation where, as Hillary said, “a barrier has fallen and cleared the way for everyone,” I will watch with my heart in my throat and shed a few more tears.

I am proudly with Hillary.  America, let’s do this thing.