“We can’t hide from any of these hard truths about race and justice in
America. We have to name them, and own them, and then change them.”
Hillary Clinton, June 20, 2015
Although as someone who remembers the Nineties well, I
know enough to blame the Republican Senate for many of the letdowns of Bill
Clinton’s presidency, I did have to cross some picket lines in my mind to get
excited about going to see him speak. However, as both he and Hillary have done
so much to support the poor, to fight for women’s rights, and to bring GLBT
rights into the national conversation, I was jumping-up-and-down happy to show
up first thing in the morning as one of the volunteers for the April 7th
event.
I phone-banked for President Obama, but this was my
first time volunteering in support of a big event. When I got there and saw the
other volunteers, I almost wept for joy. My facebook feed had made me feel like
quite the lonely feminist, but here was a beautiful, diverse, welcoming team of
mostly African American people from around the city and from the campaign
itself. One volunteer was wearing a shirt that said, in rainbow letters,
“Women’s Rights Are Human Rights,” and I knew I’d found my people.
My team was given clipboards so we could have people
fill out their tickets to get inside. Two hours before they were to open the
doors, I was sent around back of the building to help direct anybody who was
lost. My directing partner was an African American gentleman who’d just
retired. He told me that he and his wife love trading off the remote these
days, but today he had to get out and do something. We groused about the rain
together. He spoke passionately about how relieved he’ll be when President
Obama is out of office, because he isn’t treated with the respect that a President
deserves. We agreed that Hillary Clinton would have to go through similar
assaults on her dignity, that it would be hard.
He and I were stationed near a friendly Secret Service
agent who kept us updated on the weather. As it blustered and rained, we signed
happy people in. One lady was wearing her T-shirt from the first Clinton
presidency, the first time I voted, when I was eighteen.
After we were done helping people in, I said goodbye
to my partner and switched clipboards so I could help sign people up to phone
bank and canvass. The crowd inside the event was BEAUTIFUL, smiling, dancing
here and there to Bill Withers’s Lovely
Day. I signed up people of all ages and demographics, some of whom were
inspired by Hillary’s platform to sign up for a campaign for the first time
ever. I loved helping them find hours in their days and fill out their forms,
letting them know that they could even phone bank from home. Men, women, and
children volunteered their time, their talent, their artistic and organizing
skills, the few spare moments they have.
A classroom of children were up on the bleachers,
looking around the room in wonder and chanting “HRC! HRC!” In the midst of this
tense and often-segregated city, it was a pleasure to be united with my fellow
citizens for a common cause. Well, almost united. Almost all of us.
We were a festive crowd, but serious. I didn’t see the
appealing Phish-show merriment that Sanders rallies seem to have, but I think
I’m okay with serious when it comes to electing a president.
I used up all of my extroversion and almost all of my
clipboard sheets. My fondness for paperwork comes in handy once again.
When President Clinton took the stage, I was standing
with a class of African American kids and their teachers, my heart overflowing with
love. The crowd was rapt for the President’s speech, woohooing the loudest
about teachers and about Planned Parenthood. I’ve heard Bill Clinton give a
commencement address, so this wasn’t the most eloquent I’ve seen him, but he
was hitting the points we’d come to hear.
When the protest signs went up, my heart dropped. I
watched them there in the middle of the crowd, hoping that they would be safe.
When that brave woman started to speak, what you can’t really tell from the
news is that she was heard. Though I don’t agree with her choice to blame
Hillary for the crime bill, I was absolutely dazzled by this young woman’s
courage. To stand up in the middle of a crowd and disagree with one of the most
powerful men in the world is an act of bravery that should be honored, whether
I agree with her or not. And I do agree with her on her most important point,
that Black Lives Matter.
Wanting Hillary to have a chance to continue the
Clintons’ decades of social justice work kept me on Bill’s side, but it the
going was tough. I had a therapist once tell me that I don’t have enough room
in my life for moral ambiguity, and I would like to have emailed her this
deeply complicated day.
I want to be careful about how I say this next part,
and it may well come out wrong. As the protesters continued to make themselves
heard, I knew the exact moment when Twitter would explode. When Bill said the
thing that I knew would be the headline, I looked around me in horror,
expecting to see the same in the faces around me, but I didn’t. Though I cannot
and would not presume to know what they were thinking, the African American
people around me seemed to be nodding in emphatic agreement with the President.
One of the young women from the elementary class next to me yelled at the
protesters to “Shut up!” but I (my teacher brain making me think all kids are
my business) told her to listen to the protesters too and that everything would
be okay.
Noting the presence of the Secret Service in the crowd,
the teachers soon led their students out. I’m glad they got to see this. I’m
glad they got to see how powerful one voice can be, and I hope that they’re
inspired to grow up just as passionate and vocal.
I felt overwhelmed with so many different emotions,
but when the line formed and the President came to shake hands, I stuck mine
out. He took it, and held on while he was talking to the person in front of me,
for a long time, and it almost felt like I was holding him up. It was one of
the most powerful moments of my life. I was connecting with everything I stood
for and against, with power and struggle and humanity. With a new forgiveness
in my heart, I almost looked into his eyes. He looked tired, sad, and haunted.
I’ve only done a microscopic fraction of what he’s done, but I do know what
it’s like to fuck up while working against racism, what it’s like to set out to
do good and find oneself pinned down by a poison system. What if, like
everyone, he’s doing the best he can?
In the end, though, it’s Hillary Clinton who is
running for president, and I believe she’s the candidate with the drive, skill,
and wherewithal to help us build a country where Black Lives Matter. Her racial
justice platform touches on many issues that are deeply important to me as an
educator, particularly her plans to take apart the school to prison pipeline, and end the achievement gap. She also aims to protect
transgender women of color and has the clearest plan
for supporting LGBT rights overall. For these reasons, I hope
that voters will look past the headlines and choose the candidate most equipped
to improve African American lives.