Dear Madam Secretary,
I will be honest. At the beginning of this campaign, I was a Sanders supporter. He seemed real, he seemed genuine, he sometimes spoke rashly, and he was impassioned.
But I am a careful voter and as the campaign wore on, and I did my research, and I watched and listened, I slowly came to the conclusion that you were the right choice. That conviction has only been strengthened by the grace, poise and resilience you have shown during these past few months.
I can pinpoint that moment — it was the moment when, at a town hall, you listened to the plight of a woman from the Guatemala who was raising her children alone because her husband was deported. You looked at her — you SAW her. Before you addressed her question by outlining your intended policies, you acknowledged her humanity, her difficulties and her suffering.
You SAW her.
As the primaries draw to a close and you begin your campaign against Donald Trump, I must ask you this: Let us SEE you.
AND — let us help you.
You have been so strong, for so long; you have parsed words carefully so as to never promise what you don’t think you can deliver. You have indicated that you will shoulder the burdens of the office, and this country.
Instead of “Hillary Strong” why not “Together Strong”?” Instead of “I will” how about “We will”? Bring us in — invite us in — and let us help.
We’ve seen the stoic, resilient, consummate First Lady, Senator and Secretary of State — polished, professional, polite. For some of us, that’s enough. Some of us recognize that we’re hiring a President, not a nanny.
But in this election year, the collective mental age of the majority of Americans is about 14. A good majority of this year’s voting base is running on 80% emotion. They NEED to belong to something — be a part of something. They want “cool” — they want “tell it like it is!” — they want to be part of the next big thing. They can’t be bothered to research and discover how cool you actually are.
Most of them can’t imagine the harm that could befall a woman in 1970’s Alabama who went undercover to expose racism in schools.
Most weren’t even born (much less working) when it was perfectly legal for male bosses to harass female employees with crass remarks or unwanted attention.
They don’t remember the gusto with which you were attacked by right-wing conservatives (and even then-liberal media) for not “knowing your place” or for your willingness to take on the Herculean task of getting national healthcare passed.
They haven’t spared a thought for the devastation you must have felt when your husband’s indiscretions came to light — or how, despite all that hurt and anger you forced yourself, for the sake of the country and out of your own sense of commitment to your position as First Lady, to host state dinners, and Easter Egg hunts and Christmas at the White House.
But I can, I was, I do and I have. And you are cool. You are badass, actually. You were then, and you are now.
It just remains for America to SEE you.
— the mother who she got in her car and cried after dropping her kid off at the first day of kindergarten or who held back sobs when she saw her daughter all grown up in a wedding dress
— the grandmother, who held her granddaughter in her arms for the first time
— the polished, coiffed woman who has that moment of stomach butterflies and hand-clenching that she has to still before going on stage
— the person who finally gets off stage and into a room with those close to her that kicks off her shoes, laugh at a funny remark, makes a few herself or revel in the comfort of being able to shed the facade
— the friend, whose caring and loyalty to those she holds dear is fierce and undying
— the boss, who spares those few precious seconds it takes to let her staff know she’s connected to them.
America needs that. They need to know you — the Hillary behind “Hillary!”
They need to see the person who, like most of America, is scared senseless at the notion of a Trump presidency. Yes, scared. Anyone with sense and an IQ over 50 is watching this election with trepidation and fear because we know the potential for disaster.
As a person who was raised very much like you, I understand how freakin’ hard that is. Like you, I am private in nature, best when I’m focused on a goal. Like you, my “public” facade is strong, confident, fierce, competitive and capable.
But I’ll bet, like me, inside there’s a vulnerability — a roiling, churning, ball of all the emotions, good and bad, that make me human and at the core there’s a big ol’ marshmallow which only a handful of those I trust and love get to see.
And I think it’s important — even vital — that America gets to see even a little of that.
I think it will make all the difference.