Tuesday, September 12, 2017

A Letter to Hillary Clinton


Madame Secretary,
 
As child, I identified as a dancer. When the words would not come out, movement did. I could jump and spin my way into a safe haven; one where I’d take refuge when the hardest of times were upon me. On November 9th, 2016 I could barley walk; let alone dance. I hobbled my way into Starbucks, ordered my usual coffee and waited at the end of the barista bar staring into space. I must have looked out of sorts because an older woman in her 50s came up to me grabbed both of my hands and murmured “I know.” Our gazes communicated our heartbreak. The morning before I suited up in my best pants suit and dressed my three month old daughter in an “I’m with Her” onesie, dropped her for her third week at daycare and joined my husband at the polls. You wouldn’t know who I was voting for. My suit was black and I had no “Stronger Together” pins. Exiting the polls the world was my oyster, until I reached the door. An older gentleman approached me before I could exit and I geared up for an elder praising me for voting. Instead he said to me “Just so you know you’re a woman. I will never vote for you for President.” He wore a “Make America Great Again” hat.
My parents must have known I’d be a nerd. In middle school election night was “way better than the Super Bowl.” Obviously quoting my thirteen year old self there, it was true. I never watched a football game on my own accord but by god I knew who the Defense Secretary was. Before my grandmother died she told me she knew I was meant to run for office. Two years after she passed I attended The Presidential Academic Seminar Series at The Washington Center, which was a series of lectures which focused on the media’s role in a Presidential Election. When I returned to my University I was determined to come back to D.C for the summer internship program. On my application I wrote an essay entitled “Political Common Ground: Achievable or Not?” Three weeks later I was offered a full scholarship and set my sights on Capitol Hill.
The path that brings me to where I am now: wife, mom and business professional is a long one. I stayed in “politics” for a short time and moved onto what I deemed a little more of a stable path. My husband’s year long deployment may have something to do with that, along with a move away from Northern Virginia. But it lands me here. On November 7th 2016 I thought paid maternity leave was going to be brought to the table, that healthcare would be protected and that my excitement in 2008 would be renewed as I entered a new chapter: motherhood. Now will I ever run for office? Your guess is as good as mine.
It will not be popular to post this, but I will. Because my beliefs are valid. I  read the first chapter of What Happened and you opened up the flood of emotions I have kept guarded for nearly a year. I applaud your efforts and know you made a difference to me if no one else. On inauguration day I watched on a TV in a client’s office not ten miles from where you sat. I felt your pain, but when you walked into that crowd you proved to me a woman determined can handle anything.
 
Your Friend,
Maegen Gonska

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