Logically, I knew Elizabeth Warren was going to drop out of the race. The numbers weren't there, I get it. My heart still broke, and my soul took another hit.
I don't need to be logic-ed out of my reaction.
I don't need to have my heart de-valued as a barometer.
I don't need to be dismissed because what I feel collaborates with what what I think.
And yet you will keep doing it.
Consciously and unconsciously, you will lessen me because I lead with love.
It won't matter that my heart fuels my passion.
It won't matter that my passion sparks my curiosity.
It won't matter that my curiosity drives hard work.
It won't matter that my hard work leads to results and change.
You will call my arguments strident, and you will call his same arguments revolutionary.
You will expect me to be grateful for the things I've gotten to do, and you will accept that he is simply entitled to do what he wants to do.
You will remind me that "we've come a long way, baby," in hopes that I will suddenly realize that a long way certainly should be good enough, because, let's face it, you're exhausted by all this.
You must be exhausted that we are exhausted.
It must be exhausting:
Hearing us plead our case,
Watching us fight for our relevance,
Realizing our hearts and minds together are stronger than your historical construct can comprehend,
Understanding that a seat at the table is not a threat but an invitation to infinite possibility.
You must be so exhausted. I get it. Go ahead and take a nap.
We've got this.
I don't need to be logic-ed out of my reaction.
I don't need to have my heart de-valued as a barometer.
I don't need to be dismissed because what I feel collaborates with what what I think.
And yet you will keep doing it.
Consciously and unconsciously, you will lessen me because I lead with love.
It won't matter that my heart fuels my passion.
It won't matter that my passion sparks my curiosity.
It won't matter that my curiosity drives hard work.
It won't matter that my hard work leads to results and change.
You will call my arguments strident, and you will call his same arguments revolutionary.
You will expect me to be grateful for the things I've gotten to do, and you will accept that he is simply entitled to do what he wants to do.
You will remind me that "we've come a long way, baby," in hopes that I will suddenly realize that a long way certainly should be good enough, because, let's face it, you're exhausted by all this.
You must be exhausted that we are exhausted.
It must be exhausting:
Hearing us plead our case,
Watching us fight for our relevance,
Realizing our hearts and minds together are stronger than your historical construct can comprehend,
Understanding that a seat at the table is not a threat but an invitation to infinite possibility.
You must be so exhausted. I get it. Go ahead and take a nap.
We've got this.
