The problem with everyone telling me I need to see that my candidate was “deeply flawed”, is that when I look at Hillary, I see myself. I see a strong woman, willing to stand up to bullies in her work for the disadvantaged. I see a capable woman, who has succeeded at the highest levels. I see a hurt woman, who has had to smile while men make inane comments to her because she knows that to “be nice” is often the way to get through it. I see a vulnerable woman, who knows what it is to navigate a world where men can joke about assaulting her.
If my candidate is “deeply flawed”, what they are telling me to see is that I’m deeply flawed too.
I grew up with a family who loved me (and loves me still). I still learned, at a young age, that to be female in America is to be deeply flawed.
Today, I’m remembering my younger self, and feeling her rising panic, and telling her it’s going to be okay, even as I’m not sure how I can guarantee that. Yesterday, I was sad I didn’t have a daughter with whom I could have gone to vote. Today, I’m sad because I had the thought that I’m glad I don’t have a daughter who would be vulnerable today.
We must do better. We must tell a different story. And it begins today. There are still little girls being told they are “deeply flawed” for having been born female. It stops with us.