A letter to Hillary Clinton
Walking home through the park this evening, I started imagining what it would be like to meet you at a cocktail party, and what I would say if we met. Since that might well never happen, I decided to write you a letter instead. And, since I might not be able to get a letter delivered to you, I decided to post it here on my blog.
You know, as a woman, I really, really want to want you to win. I go to bed at night hoping tomorrow’s headlines will give me something I can proudly post on Facebook and Twitter. Something that will make me walk to my train stop with a bit more skip in my step about the prospects of our first woman president – and how she’ll make things so much better.
I so want to be excited about your candidacy.
But I can’t. You know all the reasons why, so I’ll skip the populist pitch and the feminist pitch. And, especially, the anti-war pitch. (But, yes, those reasons.)
You gotta give us something, though. Even Barack (since we’re on a first name basis) gave us hope. Hope is something.
For example, with the emails, I kept daydreaming, maybe Hillary will become an information privacy champion. Maybe she’ll point out that whistle-blowers show us that no server is secure, and that true security comes from trust and accountability. Maybe she’ll turn this around and we’d start to restore civility against the ever increasing norm of non-stop surveillance.
I know. That was wishful thinking.
But still – right now, the numbers don’t look so good. Do you want to risk losing twice without having stood for anything? Without having made a memorable mark? What will people remember? All the moneyed supporters in the world can’t buy a legacy.
The It Takes a Village theme – it’s a good one. And yet our village is being torn apart, displaced and deprived of security, education and opportunity. Corruption, greed and impunity have undermined its very conceptual and physical foundations.
Money doesn’t build villages, people do.
Invest in people to realize the village. A village that is not at war with other villages all the time, or too expensive for us to live in. One that has learned peaceful existence and co-existence. Where we know we’ll be okay when we’re vulnerable, sick and old.
It’s a solid American dream. Return to it. Stick with it. Run with it.
Brooklyn, New York