This morning I dropped three girls at school. Car doors slammed and as they headed to their own lives I wound down the window and leaned toward the passenger window.
“There could be a female President by tonight, girls. Woohoo.” Air punch. Air punch. “Woohoo.”
And these three girls, all super sensitive to an embarrassing mother, “woohoo”d back at me.
Four females who loved each other were sharing something big on that footpath at 7.55am. We were saying goodbye to the most hateful, witless US election campaign ever. A campaign so big and cruel and shocking the whole world had been sucked into its black heart – even my family on the other side of the world.
Wise beyond her years, my 16-year-old daughter has spent the last few months reading The New York Times and watching her social media feed, and has always been cautious of a Hillary Clinton win. She worried about Donald Trump’s appeal to those who want hollow solutions to complex problems. She worried about why he even had traction in the first place.
My sweet and thoughtful 14-year-old googled a US Presidential candidate mocking a disabled person and asked me to watch the Youtube clip with her. My Little Miss Sunshine 11-year-old daughter asked why it doesn’t matter if a rich man grabs a woman’s vagina.
But we were at an end of that, I thought this morning.
An emergency election episode of MMOL. Post continues below.
All the walls being built to keep people out. All the talk of Supreme court judges being brought in to keep women down. All the discrimination, the hate, the anger, the fear, the judgement, the rallies where people spat on each other and threatened others with death. GONE.
Here we were, on the morning a woman would surely become President of the United States. A woman who, no matter what else you may argue, is intelligent, qualified and strong.