More On: Crying, My Mom

This morning I sent my mom an email, the subject of which read "shit." The full text:

I don't know who to vote for. I thought I did but now I don't. I cried on the subway over this. I'm kind of freaking out.

Have you decided?

Her response:

I'm actually happy to hear you say this (write this) because I have been depressed all morning, almost on the verge of tears. I voted for Obama, but it feels as if I betrayed Hillary. I waited 40 years to vote for a fully qualified, totally competent woman, and I didn't. I gave it a lot of thought and I actually believe my vote was based on a balanced and reasoned view of the two options, but it made me very, very sad. In the end I told myself that Obama is a really good candidate and if Hillary hadn't run, he would be my first choice. My problem is that Hillary did run and she has run a terrific campaign (with the exception of failing to control Bill in South Carolina, a very big exception), so I can't believe I didn't vote for her. Maybe she will still win the nomination anyway and I will have the chance to vote for her in November. If not, I fear I will not have the opportunity to vote for a woman for President again in my lifetime.

I love you, even though I guess I haven't cheered you up with this response.

After that I graduated from subway crying to desk crying. (Yes, again.) So, yeah. That's me today.

Read More...

Summary only...

Sadly Passing The Torch

I had dinner with my parents last weekend, and started talking about Chris Matthews. Like many people, they only really knew about the statement that he apologized for, and not about the numerous other sexist things he'd said. My mother suggested that this was actually anti-Clintonism couched in sexist terms, rather than the other way around, and I told her that I'd wondered that myself until I saw all the many other misogynist things he's said. I emailed her the link, and when I saw her next she talked to me a bit about her reactions.

She seemed weary as she spoke. She'd been penning an email to me on the subject, but couldn't seem to finish it--it took my being home sick, and her trip uptown to feed me ginger ale, before she could really bring herself to talk about it. What she expressed was the same depression I often feel about being a woman in this society, the fundamental sorrow over the inevitable realization that, however far we've come, however hard we've fought--and she's been fighting, hard, for a long time--there are still people eager to shoot us down at every turn.

I'm not used to seeing my mother wilt this way--she doesn't get depressed (I get that from my dad) or even really understand what depression is like, experientially. She gets mad. To see her hit a wall where even anger didn't help was very powerful. I've already identified my mother with Hillary Clinton, and I think she identifies with her herself. How could she not? They're both strong, fiercely intelligent 60-year-old women who've fought their way to the upper echelons of extremely male-dominated fields. They've both had their appearance and femininity scrutinized--my mom has said that people at work have long perceived her as "bull dykish," despite the joy she takes from make-up, jewelry, and clothing. (Hell, she just had a facelift.) It must be very triumphant for her to see one of her sistren climb so high, and very demoralizing to see her practically stoned to death by so many.

Interestingly, what she expressed the most hurt about was Katie Couric. There are plenty of reasonable, non-sexist qualms a person could have with Clinton or Pelosi or the like, but my mother says, "Explain Katie Couric." Sigh.

My mother rallied, of course. But there was a subtext to what she was saying. It went something like, "This is what I need to tell you about what it's like being a woman." It was a warning, a hard truth. Somehow, it was also a bit inspiring. Perhaps just as a quiet bonding moment with my mother. I was going to write, "but also as..." something else. But I couldn't think of what the something else might be.

Read More...

Summary only...

I Have A Fever...And The Only Perscription Is More Primaries

That is not actually a joke. The NH primary is on Tuesday and I am chomping at the bit. Obama and Clinton are my Britney, Wonkette my TMZ.

Some say that Huckabee is bad news for the Dems, since he's the only candidate who can galvanize the evangelicals. This is reportedly what happened in Iowa. But the Democratic turnout was more than twice that of Republican voters, so how galvanized can they be? 239,000 Democratic voters (compared to 2004's 125,000!) versus 108,000 Republican voters. Apparently you don't have to wave the Jesus flag to get people to the polls.

I don't know enough to actually extrapolate Iowa voting to how the nation will vote in the November election. I confess that I don't see how Huckabee or Romney could beat Obama, The Most Charming Man Ever^TM. I have no idea about McCain, since I find him so uncharming, but then I, unlike him, am pro-choice, so how could I find him charming?

I have never before been so desperate for hot primary action. Which is true of the rest of the nation--this is getting tons more coverage now than in 2004. But then, this is the first time since 1928 that none of the candidates are incumbents or Vice-Presidents. All the primaries actually matter!Except for all the ones after South Carolina, but you know what I mean.

Actually, this year's obligatory Stupid Christmas Family Fight was about the caucuses, which my mother for some reason thinks are cool. But she did make the good point that I have little historical perspective on the primaries and am basing my opinion mostly on 2004. (The opinion being that Iowa caucuses are basically the only primary that matters.) I later told her that Anna Quindlen hates the caucuses, too, which shut her up. But she couldn't bring herself to actually read the article.

Read More...

Summary only...