But for those of us a little longer in the tooth? For those of us who've had our whole value assessed based on fuckability?
Those of us who've been talked down to, or over? Who've been on the wrong end of impatient, irritated glances in meetings where you've said the least? Who've been condescended to? Well, actually-ed at?
Those of us who've been ordered to smile and then called "bitch" when we didn't do it fast enough?
Those of us who've been followed by men who did it because they knew it scared us? Who yelled foul things at us from car windows and then drove away?
Those of us assumed less capable or competent based on bra-size?
Those of us called too fat, too ugly or too old to matter? Those of us who've internalized that our worth begins and ends with the male gaze?
To see that boss-ass bitch. That woman who's been on the end of more sexist invective than anyone? That woman who's been smeared, and gossiped and lied about? That woman who's outlasted a 30 year discrediting campaign - a campaign so successful there's a whole host of Americans who'd believe, without even bothering a cursory google, that Hillary Clinton eats puppies for breakfast because she's been commanded to by the president of Wells Fargo? That woman who's been called a murderer? Who's been made responsible for her husband's infidelity? Who's been called shrill, and castrating and oldfatandugly? That woman is not just still standing. She's winning.
She won.
Damn, y'all. I hope you'll pardon the term but it feels gangsta. It feels amazing.
So if you're choking down vomit at the polls in November, I'm sorry for you. But I'm going to be casting my ballot with tears of joy in my eye. I'm going full on Leslie Knope. You're my girl, Hillary. And I cannot wait to vote for you in November.
