I’ve been a Hillary Clinton supporter ever since she came on the national scene in the early 1990’s. From the minute she began opening her mouth, I knew she was no ordinary First Lady. It was evident that she was a seriously independent woman who was strong-willed, confident, and fiercely assertive. I was fascinated by her chutzpah and her take charge persona. I laughed loudly at both her Tammy Wynette and baking cookies comments. I was even happier when I learned she was my age. She was kicking ass and taking no prisoners. My kind of woman!
In a tizzy, the media was questioning her insistence that, as First Lady of Arkansas, she continued to practice law as she pursued her own formidable career versus behaving exclusively as the first lady.
Here was this attractive woman with big, beautiful blue eyes and long blonde hair, pulled back with a headband speaking words which were then and now considered outrageous. “I’m not sitting here like some little woman standing by my man like Tammy Wynette.” Hillary later followed that up with, “I suppose I could have stayed home baking cookies and having teas, but, what I decided to do was to fulfill my profession which I entered before my husband was in public life.” She immediately became news, controversial news. How dare she consider her own profession to be equally important to her husband’s. How dare she not put her career on the back burner to present the image of the stand by your man First Lady. After all, how many sacrifices would she be expected to make? She had already relinquished her identity when, as First Lady of Arkansas, she legally changed her name from Hillary Rodham to Hillary Rodham Clinton. When she exchanged marriage vows with her husband, Bill, she did so while keeping her birth name, the name of the person she knew herself to be. After all, she married Bill because she loved him. It had nothing to do with becoming his property or his obedient second-class citizen wife.
Hillary resonated with me like no other woman in public service. She was strong-willed, confident and took no bull. She was her own woman, and she wasn’t afraid to let everyone know who and what she was, an “uppity” woman who refused to take her assigned chair at the table, a chair far removed from the head of that table.
During that period of my life, I was struggling in a man’s world trying to make my own way as a formidable colleague and, if necessary, opponent to my male counterparts. I had spent my life as a second-class citizen and, like Hillary, I wasn’t going to let the world get away with putting me in that hole. My shape was an octagon. However, society was trying to pound me into a square hole.
I grew up in a military family with a mean-spirited, arrogant father who happened to be a pedophile whose crimes I knew intimately. My dad was constantly trying to hammer my octagon personality into that square hole. Later in life, as I entered the workforce, he and my mother demanded that I hand over all my earnings every week from which they would give me an allowance. They did this while my older brother, not only kept all his earnings, but my mom also bought him his toiletries. I was expected to purchase them out of my allowance. My mother was an obedient wife who goose-stepped around her husband. She marched to his drum and even went so far as to look the other way at what he was doing to me.
In the workplace, I got to know the male world well. I recall, at 18 years old, the day a boss smacked me on the ass. That was before HR diversity and sexual harassment training. It was before sexual harassment was considered to be wrong. So, I said nothing to his superiors, cried in front of that boss as he apologized for his behavior. I’m sure he simply didn’t want to be reprimanded.
Being a daughter/victim of a pedophile had its silver lining. My torment caused me to remain hidden from my family as, while in my home, I lived exclusively in my head. The gift of having been molested was that I became keenly aware of my environment and I was always watching for males who wanted to either abuse me or shut me up. I began to develop my strong-willed, confident, assertive personality. I honed my uppity skills.
For example, I avoided being kidnapped or raped one evening when I was returning to my car I had parked in the Asbury Park, NJ train station parking lot. I was taking a night class in Asbury Park. It was February. The streets were covered with new snow and ice from a previous storm. As I waited to cross the street at a traffic light, I noticed a black, slightly beat up car stopped at the light as I began to cross in front of it. I caught the image of a man behind the wheel. The temperatures were in the teens, and this man wore no coat. Instead, he wore only a white undershirt on his upper body. I became alarmed because I could see he was watching me as I walked toward the train station parking lot. Instinctively, I knew I needed to get in my car before this man, and his car could turn into the lot. My gut told me I was in trouble. Thank you, dad, for giving me that skill of knowing my environment!
As I crossed the street, in my head, I talked to myself. I told myself to calm down, walk quickly but carefully. I didn’t want to fall on the ice. I then grabbed my keys from my coat pocket and held the key in a ready to unlock position. I continued to tell myself to stay calm and get in the car as soon as I could, start the motor and back my car out.
Just as I backed my car out of its parking space, I saw the black car turn into the lot. I passed the man in the black car as I exited the lot and sped down the street toward the Interstate. I ran the same red light this man and his car originally sat. I watched in my rear view mirror making sure I had lost him. I was shaking the entire time, but, I had already become a warrior woman who was smart enough and keenly aware enough to avoid danger. I had been a victim once; I was not about to become one again.
Later in my work career, I worked at a Kroger store in Nashville, TN. I was 31-years-old, was a recent college graduate, who had previously taken a man’s job as an apprentice bricklayer. I was that store’s first head seafood manager. I had also recently requested entrance into Kroger’s management training program. The male zone manager for my store didn’t care for me. He could see I wasn’t your typical subservient female, and, so, he tried to block my request. However, again, I was not about to be told I couldn’t do something because I wasn’t a submissive female. So, I typed up a letter, addressed and mailed it to the zone manager. In that letter, I insinuated that if he continued to block me, I would visit the EEOC office to file a suit against him. I was admitted soon after that.
My thirteen-year career at Kroger ended after a job review.
When I graduated from management training, Kroger immediately promoted me to the newly created Seafood Field Specialist position which gave me jurisdiction over fifty seafood store departments. I had proven myself as an innovative leader while managing the first seafood department in that division. The Seafood Specialist position was not yet defined. So, I basically created it as I worked in that capacity. My last above average review, came before my going back to the stores for a short-lived store management experience. I was then brought back to the Meat Merchandising Department as the company’s first female Meat Merchandising Field Specialist. I oversaw twenty Nashville City Meat departments and fifteen Kentucky country stores. I loved being a pioneer. So, instead of approaching my new position as so many other field specialists did, i.e., a merchandiser enforcement officer, I approached my position as a teacher. I had a firm grasp on merchandising and marketing and so, I went about training my meat managers to become better merchandisers. The result was that my stores began to perform above their expected gross profits which were a first for both the city and country zones. Meat managers, store managers, and zone managers loved me for what I was doing. I was helping them, and the Division look better to Corporate Kroger. However, the man I worked for, the division Meat Merchandising Manager, didn’t like me and didn’t like what I was doing. This man was a short man with a Napoleon complex. Instead of being grateful for helping him also to look good; he felt threatened that I was trying to take his job. So, during that year’s evaluation, on paper, he rated my performance as average. However, it was what he said verbally to me that sent me looking for another job outside of Kroger.
This little man told me I was too aggressive instead of what he felt my behavior should be. He said, “Women should have a quiet power.” He’s fortunate I didn’t anticipate his demeaning words because I would have brought a recorder into that meeting. I would have not only filed a complaint but, since diversity and sexual harassment training was in full swing, I probably would have cost him his career. Lucky him. Not so lucky me.
As a small manufacturing company named Golden Dipt began courting me, I asked for a meeting with my Meat Manager’s boss. During that meeting, however, It became evident that the Merchandising Director was not going to support my position over his Meat Merchandiser’s position. I smiled and thanked this man for the meeting, knowing that I was now, more than ever, determined to leave Kroger. Two weeks later I was offered a Regional Manager position with Golden Dipt.
As a woman in a male-dominated world, this was who I was when Hillary Clinton first ran for the Democratic nomination in 2008. I was a woman, who, against all the odds, fought my way through the ranks and salary scale. I was thrilled that a woman was in the race for the highest position in the country and world. I felt crushed when she lost to Obama and swore I would not support him. I did, and part of what convinced me to support him was Hillary’s humility and her strong endorsement of Barack Obama. She asked me to throw my vote behind Obama. I did.
During this last campaign, as the accusations of lying and other ugly indictments were launched, I was baffled that people believed all the accusations. While Secretary of State, except for the GOP Congress who hated Obama, Hillary was lauded by many as the best Secretary of State in decades. Her popularity was high. That all disappeared as she made it public she was running in 2016.
One of the unfortunate facts of this last campaign: in the guerilla warfare arena, Democrats are amateurs compared to Republicans. Democrats behave in a more respectful manner than do the Republicans. This comparison is especially true since the emergence of the Tea Party candidates such as Trey Gowdy. This group of Republicans is nastier than many of the old guard Republicans.
On the evening before Obama was sworn in for his first term, several members of Congress held a secret meeting. During that meeting, they vowed to obstruct all Obama’s proposals. They were determined to ensure he would be a one-term president. When Obama won his second term, these same Republicans along with the New Tea Party members revisited their vow. Thus, the GOP Congress declared a state of obstructionism during Barack Obama’s entire presidency.
From the minute Hillary declared her candidacy in 2008, the GOP connived and, through the media, created a false image of who Hillary Rodham Clinton was. They did not like that she was still not just uppity, but, in their minds, she was blatantly arrogant. So, during her Secretary of State years, the GOP launched a campaign against her with the intentions of creating a false, ugly perception of her. They then backed it up with hearing after hearing of false, baseless accusations. A Republican politician once unashamedly repeated to a reporter a quote which was first written by Adolph Hitler in his book Mein Kampf. Hitler’s Propaganda Minister, Joseph Goebbels later repeated the quote.
“If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it.”
Thus, the members of the GOP repeated their accusations over and over again to the point of creating a false perception of reality. During the eight years between 2008 and 2016 those voters who didn’t know Hillary Clinton and failed to find out who she was, believed the lies.”
I worked for the Hillary Clinton campaign before the South Carolina primary and again during her run for President. I worked the phone banks. During that time, I also joined the Horry County, SC Democratic Women’s Council. On November 8th, I spent all that voting day at two polling stations. I was the Democratic Party Poll Watcher. In other words, I gave my all to Hillary’s campaign.
During my watch on November 8th, I consoled a woman who broke down in tears when a poll manager informed her that, according to South Carolina law, she was not allowed to vote. The woman had recently moved to the State and registered to vote. However, she registered two days past the 30-day- prior deadline required for the General Election. I also watched many young mothers cast their votes for Hillary as their daughters looked on. It was a proud day for women. We were going to vote to office our first female President. With Hillary Rodham Clinton, we were going to gain a gloriously qualified woman president.
The day began with a lot of optimism. By the time I arrived home around 8 p.m. and ate dinner in front of the TV, I felt optimistic. By 9 p.m. my heart began to sink. At 9:30, I told my husband I could watch no longer. I was going to bed. During the night, I got up twice, went to the living room and turned on the TV. My second trip to the TV was around 3 a.m. When I turned the TV on, Trump was making his victory speech. I spent the next hour crying as a sleepless female friend and I instant messaged each other.
I was so distraught for the next few days, that, although I got out of bed, I didn’t get dressed. I would find out later in the month at a Council meeting; I wasn’t the only female Council member who became immobilized. I also felt lost.
I am a news junkie and passionate about staying ahead of current events. I could no longer bear to watch CNN or MSNBC. I’m just now finding alternatives during the day when I’m not writing or doing something else. Too, immediately post election I joined my Facebook friends in venting our anger and consoling each other with posts. I was so distraught for several weeks that I spent a lot of time on FB sharing political posts and writing political posts. I had a lot of company too.
In the wake of the election, and a month later, I realized that I was not just distraught; I was depressed. I experienced clinical depression one other time in my life. It was after my mother’s death and when I opened my Pandora’s Box of childhood sorrow at what my dad did to me. During that time, I saw a therapist and took Zoloft as a means of getting my brain to release serotonin as I worked my way out of depression. So, as hard as it was to admit I had once again become clinically depressed, I need to get my serotonin flowing again. I know I will overcome my depression as I work my way back to my usual happy emotional state of mind. I am also not visiting FB as often. I will persevere because, when I put my mind to anything, I accomplish what I set out to accomplish.
In the meantime, I am writing again and am becoming even more active in the Council. I’m on the board that will solicit young high school female writers to participate in the Council’s Annual Scholarship Essay Contest. As a board member, I will also participate in judging the entries.
I am sad my dream of living to see a female president lost to the least qualified male candidate in recent history. I am sad that this man is one of the most hateful and hate mongering candidates to come along in my lifetime. I could have lived with a Jeb Bush or a John Kasich presidency. However, I’m not just sad but angry, that, despite knowing the hatred this man has spread, voters looked beyond all his hatred to vote him to the highest office in the world. I’m sad too that this man is determined to continue to destroy our fragile environment as he betrays the working middle-class voter he promised so much to. I am sad for his hatred and desire to persecute Mexican immigrants and Islamic refugees. I am sad that the woman who most deserved to be president lost to the crassest and crudest of all nominees in modern history. I’m mostly sad that Hillary didn’t have the chance to smash to smithereens that highest glass ceiling for me, my generation and all the generations of young women and young girls coming behind me. With all my heart I hope I do live to see a Madam President. Till then, #StillWithHer and, for the man with the orange skin, #NeverMyPresident!