The First Woman 

I wasn’t excited about Hilary Clinton’s presidential campaign. Sanders spoke more to the issues that inspire me, and Clinton’s calm, exacting, painfully accurate words weren’t exciting like Sanders’ fiery impassioned speeches. But they stand for a lot of the same things. 

I tried not to consider the genders of candidates, to treat Clinton like any male politician. I failed. I blamed her for her husband’s policies, something I never do to male leaders. I ignored the sexism motivating attacks on her character. I tried not to notice the way Sanders’ slights were excused while Clinton’s were endlessly picked apart. 

But you, male “progressives” with your “Never Hillary” t-shirts and insistence that I am “voting with my vagina” have changed me. Your ceaseless cries of corruption and “reverse sexism” have done what a million endorsements from feminist organizations couldn’t: You have enflamed my passions, awoken my sleeping feminist, and pissed me off.

I will see Hillary Clinton in the Oval Office and watch you wail and cry. I will vote for Clinton and I will collect your angry man tears to see me through her term. I will phone bank for a decisive victory, because it will break your asinine misogynistic heart. I will take pleasure in your unhappiness. 

I will cast my vote: for education, for science, for healthcare, for reproductive freedom. For women. I hope that Clinton is the first of many women presidents in this country, but I will be excited about this first. I am done keeping silent for the sake of men who hate me and my gender. 

I will rejoice when a woman is made president, and you can’t stop me. 

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