
I knew Elizabeth Warren was probably going to drop out. She is above all else smart and – for all those big dreams – a realist. She knew the numbers weren’t there. But I didn’t know how much Elizabeth Warren dropping out would leave me feeling so crushed. She is perhaps the most brilliant person I have ever had the privilege to vote for. I am proud of that vote, and cherish the ability to cast it. Sadly, America just wasn’t ready for her – or for any smart woman, really.
I think a lot of women probably felt the same way today. That if we couldn’t get many more men (and, yes some more women) to vote for Elizabeth Warren, then how will there ever be a woman “perfect” enough to get elected president. I mean, it’s Elizabeth freaking Warren. Just listen to her break down a seemingly intractable topic and you’ll feel calmed by the sensible pragmatism and unabashed empathy built into all of her policies. Yes, she really had a plan for that.
The other thing it made me feel despair that the big structural change she championed is really possible in America. Yes, I know, there is another candidate still in the running who espouses very similar policies. But big dreams without concrete plans are just that, dreams. It’s not that I can’t be won over, it’s that Warren made those big dreams seem attainable. Again, plans.
Look, it’s absolutely BONKERS that in our country’s 244-year history there has never been a woman president. Ever. And if you don’t think that’s bonkers, what does that say about how you see the world and the women in it?
If Hillary couldn’t do it. If Elizabeth couldn’t do it. If Kamala and Kirsten and Amy couldn’t do it. Well, who can?
I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I hate to say it but I think the likeliest way we get a woman president in our lifetime is if a) she is a conventionally attractive Very Conservative Woman, or b) one of the innumerable ancient white men Democratic voters feel safe voting for picks a female VP and then, um, old age happens and she takes over. Deep. Endless. Sigh.
Like I was saying, it’s grim. We can all feel a little down for a bit, I know I do. And, duh, no matter what I am voting for the Democratic nominee in November because I would vote for a can of creamed corn over Donald fucking Trump. What’s important is that we get back up, keep fighting. And, if nothing else, as Liz would say, leave some blood and teeth on the floor. For us, for our mothers and grandmothers, for the next generation and the one after that. For this little girl, and for all the pinky promises.
I want a world where this little girl’s enthusiasm at seeing Elizabeth Warren heading to cast her ballot on Super Tuesday to actually translate to the polls. I don’t believe that world exists yet. But someday, maybe. May we all fight hard until that happens. Happy first weekend of Women’s History Month, all.