Dear Hillary

Dear Secretary Clinton,

In the wake of the shocking outcome of yesterday's presidential election, I wanted to write to you to express my thoughts and feelings. I'm just one supporter, and most of what I have to say will, I fear, be terribly cliched -- said already, or echoed soon, by commentators, analysts, and supporters more prominent and more eloquent than I am. However, I have spent a lot of time over the years, and especially this last year, listening to you, reading your words, and watching you speak, and it feels natural right now to take up my side of the conversation and respond.

I've supported you for my entire adult life. The year that I turned nine, your husband was elected President of the United States. Earlier that year, my father died of a heart attack. It was an incredibly difficult year for me. And yet, I know my father would have been proud that his daughter was growing up and going through her preteen and early teen years watching a strong woman in the White House, fighting for healthcare reform and refusing to be told to stay in the traditional role of the first lady, doing uncontroversial and -- let's be honest -- less important things. I saw that you wore pants. I saw that you worked hard. I saw that you chose issues that mattered.

When you became a New York state senator, I was surprised. It seemed extraordinarily dedicated; you didn't need the job, and could have devoted yourself to anything -- your foundation, charity work, a private sector job, twiddling your thumbs. But you stayed in public office. You kept fighting for issues that mattered on the national stage.

When you launched your 2008 presidential bid, I was an early and enthusiastic supporter. I voted for you in the primary. I was disappointed when you didn't win the nomination, but happy to follow your lead in supporting Barack Obama. I was proud when he nominated you to be Secretary of State, and thrilled to see you flying all over the world representing my country, applying your intelligence, dedication, and grasp of detail to the most pressing international problems of our time.

When you launched your 2016 presidential bid, I really thought your moment had come. I feel sure you did too! I voted for you in the primary. I told my friends I supported you. I even donated to your campaign -- for me, a huge first, as I had never donated to a specific politician before. I bought a white pantsuit to wear for election night in your honor. I was ready for my first female president, and I was ready for it to be you.

Instead, well, I don't have to tell you what happened. Along with my father's death and 9/11, this has been one of the three worst days of my life. I am grieving for your loss, for my loss, for the country's loss, for the world's loss; and I am shocked by the beginning of a long and unpredictable attack on American values that I feel sure is coming. Racism, misogyny, anti-intellectualism, and xenophobia seem to have won the day.

And yet, even now, you are a beacon of hope. Even now you stand tall, clear-eyed and clear-voiced, and you acknowledge that this is painful, and you remind us to remain committed to our democracy.

I would have been so proud to see you as my president. But I am equally proud to see you as a fellow citizen.

These issues are much bigger than you and me, and you said that today -- that it wasn't about one person or even one election. You're right. But my heart also aches for you and I grieve for your personal loss, your personal injury. I hate that you were forced to bear ridicule and slander, insults and threats. I hate that you have worked so hard, and, it seems, all for nothing. But you are so wise. You know that it was not for nothing. It was for the millions of women and men like me who are inspired by your example, who feel this crushing defeat with us. And it was for our children.

It's such a cliche to bring up "the children" when we talk about politics, but now that I'm a mom, I know why people are so motivated by them -- whether they are on the right and call this "family values" or on the left and talk about "family-friendly policies." My three-year-old son needs answers, and he needs a future -- a future with gender equity, with multiculturalism, with intellect, and with kindness.

Over the next four years, I will follow your example. I will vote and campaign for people and issues I believe in. I will donate, when I can, to causes I care about. I will volunteer locally. I will march nationally. I will roll up my sleeves and dig in. I know I would not be doing it if you had not been there for me.

I guess that's really why I'm writing this letter. You have always been there for me, from when I was nine until now -- twenty-four years later. You didn't even know me, you've never heard my name, we've never met. But I know I can rely on you -- and on the millions you have inspired.

Thank you for all the years you've spent working on behalf of America. Thank you for the late nights, the early mornings, the long trips, the missed meals, the missed sleep, and the sacrifices. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I hope I can be worthy of your legacy. I hope my generation can carry the torch forward.

I know, I really know, that this letter will never be read by you or any aide close to you. I'm sure everyone has better things to do and I'm sure you get a lot of messages. But I just want to say, just because I should say it, that if you can think of anything you want me to do, let me know. I would work for you. I would volunteer at events. I would coordinate a talk for you. I would copy-edit your writing, I would get your coffee. If there is anything you ever need that is in my skill set, please let me know.

Yours very sincerely,

Catherine