Twas the night before the election…I’m currently lying on my bed, my bed in Hillary Clinton’s old dorm Stone Davis. Tomorrow, the woman who once walked through these same walls surrounding me at this moment may become the first female president of the United States.
I’m not the most adept or comfortable at talking about politics, besides agreeing generally with her policies, I have a lot of respect for the accounts I have heard of Hillary Clinton as a person. I respect her for taking her law exam anyways, even though she was explicitly told she would be taking the rightful spot of a man. I respect her for standing by her husband and navigating a political climate that would witch-hunt any first lady who deserted her man. I respect her for standing in front of a Congress determined to tear her down for eleven hours straight, spine-stiff, still well spoken, composure intact. I respect her political experience as Senator and Secretary of State, for her public service that has spanned over thirty years. I respect the way she has handled unprecedented quantities of hate that would probably send most of us flying into pits of self-doubt. I even respect the fact that she spent her first summer out of Wellesley scooping out salmon guts in Alaska.
She reminds me of how far I can go, how life goes in unexpected directions. She reassures me that it’s okay to scoop salmon guts for a while, so long as I never forget to follow my passions despite how challenging they might be. It’s very inspiring, to be in the same place where she was at my age.
I like to think Wellesley had some part in shaping this woman, who stands on podiums today enduring the wrath of the tradition for daring to break through glass ceilings. Like life as a woman dedicated to pushing society forward, Wellesley is challenging. Wellesley will push you, it will shape you, it will even threaten to break you. But you will learn to grow resilient, strong and with self-worth from within. That is the idea, I think. I’m still grappling with it myself, but I like to imagine it at its best in our most famous alumna.
I am anxious about tomorrow. How could I not be, when I care so deeply about our country and its future? But I have done my part. My absentee ballot was mailed two weeks ago, for the woman who once walked through these walls.
Please, those of you who are able, make your voice heard at the voting booth tomorrow. Your can find your polling place here. Your voice in our collective future is bold, imperative, and must on principle, be heard.
Ever lovely yours,
Eleanor
