I feel an overpowering urge to write about something I should really steer clear of in the current, overheated political environment and my inability – due to a logic that might charitably be described as squishy – to adequately defend why I am supporting Hillary Clinton and why, much pace to female millennials, I think Gloria Steinem was kinda sorta right when she identified that place where the boys are as Bernie’s campaign: she was alluding, in a foot-in-mouth kind of way, to the fact that Bernie’s campaign is a sweeping movement fueled by idealism and that being part of such a movement is . . . well . . . sexy. Exciting. Now, come on. You know it’s true. We’ve all been there.
And I get it. In 2008, I ditched Hillary for the brighter, shinier, more aspirational Barack Obama and I’ve never regretted it. I think he’s made an exceptional President despite gobsmacking obstructionism on the part of a Congress about which I can say literally nothing nice and, let’s face it, the country needed to be inspired . . . I needed to be inspired. And I was. Also, we needed a black President. Yes, we did.
But now it’s eight years later, I’m eight years older, the Republicans have gone completely bonkers, and, given the status quo, I can’t think that the kind of revolution Bernie is fomenting has even a prayer of success. Not that I don’t define myself as any less a Democratic Socialist than he does. Not that I don’t believe in Single Payer and free tuition for all and just generally remaking the United States over in Denmark’s image, because, yes, I’ve watched Borgen and think that Denmark is swell and that the nightmarish version of Capitalism that Republicans venerate is completely pernicious and out of control. Not that, when I see hear Simon and Garfunkle’s America on Bernie’s commercial, I don’t tear up and think, “Yes!” and “It’s so true!” I agree. I agree. And yet. . . .
Given the lunatic state of a country in which a disturbingly large portion of the electorate seems to think Donald Trump has been dispatched by God to save their sorry white asses, any change, if it is to come, will have to be incremental. That being the case, having a smart, tough, experienced, and capable incrementalist, someone whose opinions can evolve (I don’t think this is a bad thing) and a woman at the helm. . . . Well, we could do a Hell of a lot worse.