Tales From Pantsuit Nation: A President Who Looks Like Her
When I was a kid, both of my brothers and my father firmly told me a woman could never be president. Women were too emotional, too unpredictable, too uninformed. Yet, it was my mother who was the backbone of my family. The one who picked up the pieces when my dad went to jail, the one who made sure her kids all went to college – even though she herself never could. The one who picked herself up every time my father beat her, conducted herself with dignity, did what had to be done.
I destroyed both of my brothers’ outstanding academic records. I made it my mission to get better grades, better test scores, the best scholarship to the best college. And yet, no matter what my accomplishments were, they never seemed to respect me. And they never, ever conceded that a woman could be a decent leader (and still don’t).
I will proudly wear white on Tuesday. I will cry when I cast my vote for the most qualified candidate – a woman. And when Secretary Clinton is inaugurated in January, I will be relieved and overjoyed to have a fantastic President, and totally gratified to know that what I always thought could happen has, in fact, happened.
But more than anything, I will feel joy that my own daughter will grow up in a world where the idea of becoming president is not just a theory, not a hair-brained idea that others tell her is crazy. She will have a real role model – a president who looks like her. My daughter will know that truly anything is possible.
I am SO with her!
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