​As a scholar of bureaucratic policymaking, watching the Trump cabinet take shape – or rather, the announcement of the prospective nominees whose confirmation ultimately rests with the Senate – has been at once interesting and alarming.
 
First, the nature of his characterization of the search process, with his tweeting on November 15 (amid reports of disarray), “Very organized process taking place as I decide on Cabinet and many other positions. I am the only one who knows who the finalists are!” It is, at times, as though, he is on a new addition to The Apprentice, moving from The Candidate, but not so much transitioning from presidential but rather the television version. All prestige, no responsibility, but sadly, many many repercussions.
 
Second, while one might be able to make a case for an outsider bringing a fresh perspective into the government, one must still expect that their hires would pick up the slack when it comes to policy expertise, with the policy outcomes reflecting some measure of compromise between establishment and the new wing of the party. That is, while many view experience normatively desirable, among those for whom it was not a dealbreaker, there was presumably some expectation of Trump surrounding himself with good, bright people.
 
Yet his choices thus far raise a number of serious concerns, not to mention a challenge to a rich political science literature (to which I have contributed) resting on assumptions of bureaucratic competence and expertise. After all, the landmark administrative law case Chevron v. NRDC (1984) lays out the “Chevron Two Step” articulating the conditions under which deference should be accorded to agencies’ interpretation of statutory delegations of authority, and that deference is based on a higher degree of technical expertise upon which to draw to determine important matters of policy implementation for the nation. While a legislature comprised mainly of lawyers may not be well-equipped to determine the threshold of harm for benzene in water, the Environmental Protection Agency’s bureaucrats are.
 
Trump has chosen as his Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Dr. Ben Carson, who said himself that (while he felt qualified to run for President of the United States) he lacked the requisite experience to be a cabinet secretary and who nevertheless was offered this position. There are two problems here. First, he is a medical doctor whose experience would be leveraged much more appropriately as Secretary of Health and Human Services or Surgeon General, given his understanding of (at least some aspects of) healthcare. In contrast, his experience in no way prepares him for work in HUD, the work of which impacts public housing across the nation, among many other things. Indeed, the Hill article discussing the nomination cited that Carson was seen as a resource in addressing “inner cities,” a sore spot given Trump’s conflation of minorities and inner cities. While it is certainly admirable to add to the diversity of one’s cabinet, it should not be targeted based on a misguided association, not to mention should not be entirely at the expense of the expertise on which he might be able to draw (e.g., healthcare as opposed to housing).
 
And second, though relatedly, Carson himself said he was too inexperienced for the cabinet before a particular post was being offered, suggesting a broad-based concession to lacking the credentials to guide policy at the national level. Trump would have done well to heed Carson’s words (something I never thought I’d say…), perhaps keeping Carson as an advisor in the inner circle to weigh in on matters to which he could contribute (such as how to balance their aversion to many parts of the Affordable Care Act without taking health insurance away from millions of Americans who have benefited from the Act’s provisions).
 
Trump has chosen as Ambassador to the UN Nikki Haley of South Carolina, a woman who has in some cases drawn relief from those on the left because of her competence at what she does currently, and the fact that she is not among the “overly obsequious to Trump but combative with others” crowd (I’m looking at you, Giuliani, Christie, and Flynn). These are all qualities that point to her being an appropriate pick for something. Yet he has chosen as his ambassador to the UN someone whose entire repertoire of political experience is domestic rather than foreign. It is a misallocation of brainpower, and a sad reflection of his inattention to the expertise and skill sets of those around him.
 
Moreover, he has been rumored to be considering for a post David Petraeus, who pled guilty to the leaking of classified information. He has already named as National Security Advisor Michael Flynn, who is not only vehemently anti-Muslim but has disseminated fake news via Twitter. The likely appointee as Administrator of the EPA is Myron Ebell, a man who is neither a scientist nor a believer in climate change, instead characterizing climate scientists as “global warming alarmists” who “exaggerate the rate of warming… exaggerate the potential impacts of warming and how soon they may occur… and underestimate wildly the costs of reducing our emissions by the magical amount they have picked.” And as icing on the cake, Jared Kushner reportedly asked about how many current staffers would be saying on, apparently unaware of the vast staffing issues that lay before them in order to run the nation (not into the ground).
 
(While competence and expertise are not such problems in the case of Senator Sessions, his hostility to all of the things under the umbrella of the Department of Justice – from his lack of opposition to the KKK, his hostility to school desegregation, history of racial slurs, and his fighting against voting rights – is deeply troubling and should be disqualifying. There were challenges enough around the slogan “Make America Great Again” without reframing Session’s apparent goal to “Make America Jim Crow Again”).
 
This is all to say that the fact that while Trump could conceivably select a cabinet of advisors to compensate for his inexperience, he has failed spectacularly to do so. The functioning of the American government requires that someone responsible be at the wheel, or at least in the passenger seat and able to intervene when needed. While some might have viewed Priebus as that person, his deference to both Steve Bannon (“a force of good”) and Jeff Sessions gives no reason to expect him to provide any push-back on the more extreme aspects of the Trump agenda, let alone question authority on more everyday aspects of governance. Those whom he is selecting for top positions either are inexperienced or are inexperienced in their designated policy domains. (If we took Carson and Hayley and let them do random draws for their new position, they might well wind up in a more sensible department).
 
Campaigns are too often not about the realities of policymaking but rather about rhetoric, which Trump’s core coalition is being reminded of as he backs away from several of his key promises (though those opposing Trump are breathing sighs of relief about some of that backtracking). The reality of governance is that it is hard work, yet Trump often appears to have the mentality of Aziz Ansari’s “Parks and Recreation” character Tom Haverford, who said, “I hate doing work, but I love being flattered.” Politics involves a lot of credit-claiming, but behind the scenes there must be hard-working, competent, expert bureaucrats – from civil servants to partisan appointees – who can draw on their policy knowledge to craft policy that is consistent with the president’s objectives and what they view as the good of the country. Indeed, that they are insulated from electoral pressures enables them to apply their expertise without concern for electoral implications. Members of Congress and first-term presidents do not have that luxury, and so it behooves the president – and in this case the president-elect – to consider the policy and administrative implications of his current staffing decisions, which will shape much of the direction that they choose to take. Indeed, it would be for Trump’s own benefit to maximize his ability to “make America great” by placing his agenda in competent hands (that presumably are larger than his).
 
Whether for the left or for the right, for regulation or deregulation, we want the person behind the wheel to have a license (and preferably no prior record of at-fault collisions). Thus far, Mr. Trump has yet to demonstrate an interest in making such basic protections against collision. And unlike the (many) bankruptcies that he himself has taken, as president his legacy in crashing will have far vaster repercussions. 

​In the aftermath of Mr. Trump’s upset on November 8, there was speculation as to whether the more extreme elements of his campaign positioning was rhetorical flair to appeal to the more extreme segments of the electorate, as opposed to genuine policy preferences. With the hiring of white supremacist and anti-Semite Steve Bannon as senior advisor and the nomination of Jefferson (“Jeff”) Beauregard Sessions for Attorney General, we got the answer loud and clear (and spoiler: many aren’t happy with that answer).
 
The Attorney General, the head of the Department of Justice, is a position whose importance cannot be overstated, adjudicating matters ranging from the criminal justice system to immigration to civil rights and voting rights. The position filling this position must be sympathetic to such matters of justice and equality. After all, the operative word in “Department of Justice” is, you know, justice.
 
For this role, Mr. Trump has nominated Senator Jeff Sessions, a man whose hostility to civil rights and voting rights cannot be overstated.
 
In the aftermath of the Supreme Court decision of Shelby County v. Holder (2013), states whose preclearance requirements with respect to the Voting Rights Act capitalized on the relaxation of voting rights regulations by passing new restrictive legislation on such issues as voter ID and the number of polling places, issues that disproportionately impact minorities and the poor.
 
2016 was the first presidential election that the United States had since the enactment of these new voting constraints, and we saw the egregious impact, with 868 fewer polling places than in previous elections. For example, North Carolina, Texas, Wisconsin, and others enacted new voting restrictions by way of stricter voter ID law. The largest county in Arizona, Maricopa County, reduced the number of polling places by 70% between 2012 and 2016, from just 200 to 60.  The Leadership Council on Civil Rights studied the 381 counties affected by Shelby for which data were available in 2012 or 2014, and found that 43% of them had reduced the number of voting locations.
 
Indeed, the number of polling place closures fits quite clearly along the lines of the states affected by the holding, with 212 closures in Arizona, 403 closures in Texas, 103 closures in Louisiana, 44 closures in Mississippi, 66 closures in Alabama, 12 closures in South Carolina, and 27 closures in North Carolina. Such closures have the result of producing inordinately long lines in order to vote, with some states providing only two hours of time away from work to vote, and some states not having any such law in place. Even if able to take time away from work (and in many cases the lines vastly exceeded two hours), there are significant opportunity costs to lost time away from work, potentially billable hours.
 
Amid what will soon be a very conservative Supreme Court, and a challenging terrain in which to defend voting rights for all Americans, we deserve – indeed, we require –  an Attorney General who is on the side of voters. Which brings us to Jeff Sessions, whose controversial stances on civil rights include a defense of the KKK but for their use of marijuana (because that’s the real problem with them?), who characterized the NAACP and the ACLU as “Communist-inspired” and “un-American,” and who allegedly told an African American staffer that he should be careful what he said to white people. Indeed, in 1986 his past of racial discrimination disqualified him from the post of being a federal judge, and those who defend civil rights are now left praying that the 115th Congress is not more racist than the 99th Congress was.
 
Within the realm of voting rights, Sessions has been equally antagonistic, characterizing the Voting Rights Act of 1965 as a “piece of intrusive legislation,” this comment about a law that outlawed the racially discriminatory practices that violated the Fifteenth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States. As a United States attorney in Alabama in the 1980s, he sought to prosecute an African American man for alleged voter fraud when registering African American voters (the fraud allegations were not substantiated and Sessions lost the case). Perhaps most surprising is that in the aftermath of Shelby County v. Holder (2013), Sessions denied that Shelby County, Alabama had ever had a history of voter discrimination (this coming from the state where many of the fiercest battles over voting rights were waged, as in Selma, and with civil rights activist and Congressman John Lewis staunchly challenging Sessions’ characterization).
 
The Voting Rights Act previously had stipulated that regions with histories of racial discrimination required prior authorization from the Department of Justice before enacting new voting legislation (ahem, restrictions). While this no longer applies, doubtless voting rights cases will continue to be waged in the DOJ and in courts. Needless to say, viewing Shelby County’s current state, not to mention its prior history, as not being discriminatory toward minorities, it is not difficult to see the damage that he could easily do when tasked with adjudicating which voting restrictions are acceptable given the Voting Rights Act’s provisions (to the extent that they remain intact).   
 
Congressional crafting of law almost always provides for some executive branch enforcement and/or rulemaking, but in some cases also provides a venue for litigants to themselves assert their rights. Indeed, Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, though originally a compromise with the Republican coalitions, ultimately proved to be a highly potent means through which to challenge discrimination based on race, sex, religion, or national origin. Thus, regardless of administrative decisionmaking, individuals were given a voice through courts.
 
The Voting Rights Act has no such provision for a private right of action. Rather, the power rests in the Attorney General himself or herself to institute proceedings to enforce the guarantees of the Fifteenth Amendment and the VRA’s other statutory provisions. Thus, absent a committed Attorney General, and with a conservative judiciary, progress within this domain can vanish with ease and without recourse by private parties.
 
Essential to democracy is the right of political participation. As over 62 million Americans are reminded, sometimes this yields bad results. However, it is the best system that we have, and preserving the franchise is fundamental to the democracy for which our nation is known (for now). Americans require an Attorney General committed to the Constitution and to enforcing basic rights, not undermining them. Jeff Sessions is not that person. It is incumbent upon the United States Senate to recognize that and to vote against him accordingly. 

​When I was 18 years old, I had the pleasure and privilege of taking a civil rights trip through the deep south. I spoke with Congressman John Lewis about how he and Bobby Kennedy inspired me. I visited the grave of civil rights worker James Chaney. I met Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth and members of the Little Rock Nine. And along with the rest of our group, we walked across the Edmund Pettus Bridge of Selma, Alabama, the site of some of the most acrimonious battles over voting rights, including Bloody Sunday.
 
On this trip also was my high school government teacher, whom I am glad to now call a friend. I asked him whether he would have joined the civil rights movement in that moment (despite his being a white man). He said he liked to think that he would.
 
At the time, I was more strident than I am now (I think). My progressive politics are more tempered by the reality in which I operate, with part of that reality being that politics is for grown-ups and about compromise among diverse preferences in a pluralistic society. I insisted that I would have been on the front lines. I like to think I would have been, and indeed have protested some of the egregious problems that I saw, whether the Iraq War or the decision in Ferguson, Missouri. But I do not know, and in the face of perhaps the greatest shock to our political culture in a couple generations (perhaps September 11, but it is unclear how they will measure against one another), I realize that there are legitimate concerns as to one’s willingness to put one’s safety at risk when seeking to defend the principles that matter most. Because while I believe there is nobility in exercising the right to peaceful protest for important causes, there is less nobility in martyrdom.
 
To be clear, I view Mr. Trump’s election win as legitimate. I do not believe that the election was rigged. I do not believe the election was hacked. I believe that the Democratic Party underestimated the extent of blue collar economic anxiety and white racial resentment, underestimated to what extent that would drive them to turn out for Mr. Trump. And I believe that rules of the game (Electoral College) were such that her votes were not distributed in a way as to produce a win for Secretary Clinton, and that the problems of the Electoral College should be addressed moving forward but not retroactively. And I believe that it is deeply hypocritical for those on the left to reject the outcome of the election, having condemned Mr. Trump for his declaration that he would only accept the results if he won. The proper time to have condemned Mr. Trump’s candidacy was during the campaign and on November 8, and sadly, many Americans will pay a dear price.
 
While the election was legitimate (Russia issues notwithstanding – yes, that’s a big caveat but I’m not going to go there), the policies that the victor represents are not. As I have written previously, I believe that America’s greatness lies in its embrace of diversity, of its recognition that our national origin, the color of our skin, our religion, or who we love does not lessen what we are worth. I believe that Mr. Trump’s hostility to women, minorities, Muslims, immigrants, refugees, and the LGBT community are a direct affront to our basic values of fundamental decency, and perhaps even more so that his lack of respect for democratic institutions and a free press compromise our ability to defend these rights in the face of ideological disagreement.
 
I have been torn as to the proper message of protest and other opposition to Mr. Trump – a demagogue who was elected legitimately this time – given that he is not yet in office and thus has not yet enacted any of the dangerous and un-American policies that he claims to defend (I use the word “claims” given his marked inconsistency in views).
 
But in watching as hate crimes surge around the nation – with over 200 incidents of hateful harassment, intimidation, and violence reported in the three days following Election Day –  I believe that now is the time for vigilance, and to put pressure on those Republicans who were not in the Trump coalition. I believe that waiting until the inauguration is far too late and thus in this case, too dangerous. The transition team is at work in shaping Mr. Trump’s agenda, from cabinet picks to particular policy items, and while it appears that healthcare will not be as decimated as we might have thought, it is still early, and the cabinet secretaries being floated are not policy experts nearly so much as the most obsequious among his inner circle (e.g., Giuliani, Flynn, Clarke, Palin, Carson). Mr. Trump could conceivably forge a more moderate path and be restrained by the more traditional Republicans (e.g., Paul Ryan), but they are not yet showing a commitment toward that end.
 
So to the extent that American voters can pressure them, to raise loud (though peaceful) voices in defense of basic equality and civil rights, there is no time to waste, whether in the form of protest or in the form of donating to important causes that are currently under siege. It is not about Democrat versus Republican, blue versus red, it is about preserving the basic principles of democracy and equality within which we can wage these important policy battles that divide the parties. And it is about moving America forward, rather than reverting not so much to family values generally but rather the Jim Crow-era values.
 
We are not having a Bloody Sunday right now. I pray that we won’t. But I believe that we owe it to those who lost their lives, who risked their lives, broke their flesh and bones fighting for basic principles of civil rights and voting rights, to not squander the progress of recent decades, but to fight to uphold these principles that are, in fact, what make America great.
 
I’m in. Are you? 

About forty-eight hours after learning that Mr. Trump is President-Elect Trump, I am still in shock. I am not merely dismayed, but devastated, and I am not alone.
 
I say this knowing that I am not the demographic group most adversely affected by his win. I am a heterosexual white woman whose last name is Jewish, but without a religious affiliation. But my friends are not. My friends are Muslim. My friends are Hindu. My friends are Jewish. My friends are Mormon. My friends are gay. My friends are black. My friends are immigrants. After all, my friends are American.
 
My students, though enjoying the privilege of receiving their education at one of the finest universities in the nation and indeed the world, are also diverse, representing many ethnicities and national origins and interests. And they deserve to learn and grow and thrive in a nation that respects them, that allows for the academic and journalistic freedom to help them to expand their horizons and maximize their potential to contribute to an America that is inclusive, that celebrates them.
 
I believe that America’s greatness lies in its appreciation that one's value and worth are not contingent upon the color of our skin, our national origin, to what god we pray (or don’t), or who we love. I am reminded of this in taking the subway through New York City, surrounded by people of different ethnicities, backgrounds, and sexual orientations. That is not Trump’s America, it is ours. And it is a reminder that while I love my country, its greatness is not unconditional, but rather depends on us continuing to uphold these crucial constitutional principles upon which our great nation was founded. It depends on our continued recognition that we thrive because of, and not despite, diversity.
 
I am not a small government conservative, but am friends with some. I believe that history and data show us that investing in government programs helps to maximize progress for all, helps to lift up the poor and middle classes through economic stability and social program delivery. I also recognize that this is not the sentiment shared by all, and that there are important contestations of ideas as to the proper allocation of authority from federal government to states to private enterprise. This election was not one such debate, rather stooping to base -- and indeed debased --instincts and anxieties about an "other."

And I am deeply troubled by the fact that despite Mr. Trump's "policies" that in many ways defy small government, nearly half (yes, she won the popular vote but her votes were not distributed in a way as to produce a win in the Electoral College) of America's voters on Tuesday embraced (or at minimum, enabled) the heightening of racist, homophobic, sexist, and xenophobic sentiment that has garnered him comparisons to Hitler, Mussolini, and Bin Laden. I am saddened that at least some of the people around me do not believe that my Muslim friends are worth as much as I, or that the man in the White House should be entitled to use his now even greater power as leverage to assault women. And I am frightened as to, should Mr. Trump alienate sufficient people to lose his bid for re-election in 2020,  whether he would accept that result as legitimate when holding the role of Commander in Chief. There is speculative evidence to suggest that he would not.

And while I recognize that there very important discussions about polling errors this year -- and those discussions will happen in the days, weeks, months, and probably years to come -- I am dismayed that it distracts from the reality that while these polling errors surprised us with regard to the outcome, it does not explain the bigotry and misogyny that characterized far too much of the election. The reality is that discussing statistical problems is easier than coming to terms with our nation's penchant for discrimination, for the fact that our nation has persistently had extensive white racial resentment, and tensions over minorities and certain religious groups that we can no longer pretend are fringe as opposed to mainstream and soon to be on Pennsylvania Avenue. Winning on a platform of hate for people and for democratic institutions -- not to mention an unabashed desire to suppress voter turnout, especially among minorities -- is not Democratic, it is not Republican, it is not Libertarian, it is wrong. And it won. 

I believe that America’s greatness also depends on our commitment to helping people to rise up and to have access to the sometimes too-elusive American dream. Whether the partisan differences between the Democrats and Republicans are shaped by simply different worldviews of how to move America forward, empirics suggest that the Trump (and broader Republican) agendas consistently favor those at the top of the economic ladder while hurting those at the bottom, whether in terms of taxes or in terms of healthcare and specifically Medicaid. Systematic failures to care for the health and wellbeing of vulnerable populations is unconscionable, and should be deemed un-American.   
 
I believe that if we are going to make claims to greatness, we must disavow the boasting of sexual assault, a criminal act to which one in five women is subjected. Women comprise 51% of the population. And even if we did not, the willingness to embrace this degree of illegality and chauvinism is deeply troubling, and should be for many if not all Americans.
 
I also believe that it is sobering to be mindful of the fact that the fear, anguish, anger, and pain that many of us feel now is the same set of emotions that drove so much of Trump’s core coalition. I do not believe that those fears that were stoked were based on sound considerations, and that the data did not support their concerns, but their sense of pain and fear was real, and it produced all-too-real results. We do not need to empathize with their concerns about immigration and race and other social progress, but it may help us to understand this larger-than-expected segment of society right now.
 
In the immediate aftermath of Martin Luther King’s assassination, Robert F. Kennedy spoke off-the-cuff in some beautiful remarks in which he quoted Aeschylus, who wrote, “Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”
 
I hope that as we cope with the consequences of this earth-shattering election, we can take some semblance of comfort in those words. 

​On November 8, Americans had an opportunity.
 
We had an opportunity to reject the cynicism and unbridled fear on which Mr. Trump’s campaign was based.
 
We had an opportunity to resoundingly declare that a man whose campaign is about building walls rather than bridges is un-American, and that banning individuals on the basis of their religious affiliation defies the basic principles for which we stand.
 
We had an opportunity to defeat the most dangerous demagogue to receive a major party nomination in modern United States history.
 
We had an opportunity to take a much-needed stand for the higher principles of justice, fairness, and equality, the fundamental tenets of the Constitution of the United States, and the very notion that America does better when we work to lift one another up from hardship and expand opportunity.
 
We had an opportunity to affirm that our self-worth is not determined by the color of our skin, our gender, to which god we pray, or who we love. 
​
We had an opportunity to provide an example for the women and young girls of our nation that with enough hard work and determination, they can be anything to which they set their minds, even President of the United States.
 
We had an opportunity to elect the most deeply and broadly qualified person to receive a major party nomination, and to affirm the seemingly basic principle that competence is an important dimension of governance.
 
We had an opportunity to move America forward on healthcare, climate change, reproductive rights, the economy, and the Supreme Court.
 
We squandered this opportunity, and in doing so, we failed ourselves.  
 
Shame on us. 

​There are countless reasons to vote for Hillary Clinton this year. Some come down to defending the basic tenets of democracy and equality, and a faith in the democratic process that Mr. Trump has so vociferously sought to undermine. Some come down to seeking to reject the rampant cynicism and bigotry and fear on which Mr. Trump has based his campaign, galvanizing a base of supporters based on economic anxieties that in many cases do not comport with the economic realities faced by his supporters. Some come down to wanting a president who is competent and has the experience to understand the job of the presidency and how to lead effective political and economic policy, while Mr. Trump has routinely reflected a distressing lack of understanding of the political system that he seeks to govern. Some come down to wanting to avoid associating oneself with a man who boasted of committing sexual assault.
 
But those are reasons to vote against Mr. Trump, admittedly in a two-party system and thus with virtually only two choices. There are many reasons still to be with her, and I have discussed some of these reasons previously. 
 
I am with Hillary because as a product of public schools (go Bears!), I see the important role that they play in leveling the playing field among those who cannot afford private school but who need and deserve a quality education to help prepare them for college and the workforce, competing for the best jobs in the nation (and indeed, the world).
 
I am with Hillary because as a woman, I believe that we are long overdue for showing ourselves and the world that we are ready for women to lead this country in the highest office (and hopefully with greater representation in Congress as well), and to show the many women of this country that they can grow up to be anything they want, whether it is a teacher, a CEO, or President of the United States.
 
I am with her because she supports reproductive choice, understanding that this most personal and life-changing of decisions about women’s own bodies must remain with them and with their doctors, not with the government, especially in grave conditions such as rape.
 
I am with Hillary because as someone with chronic medical conditions, I see the value of maximizing access to quality and affordable healthcare, and while Hillary is committed to expanding access to medical care, Mr. Trump would strip coverage away from millions.
 
I am with Hillary because while Mr. Trump characterized climate change as a hoax perpetrated by the Chinese, Hillary is committed to fighting global warming and reducing greenhouse gases, and investing in alternative energy so as to reduce our carbon footprint while also investing in job creation.
 
I am with Hillary because the economy thrives when we invest in working and middle class Americans rather than concentrating tax benefits for those at the top, which has largely served to leave us in recession. I am with Hillary because President Clinton created more jobs in his 8 years than did the previous 12 years of Republican leadership, and because President Obama led us out of the greatest economic recession since the Great Depression.
 
I am with Hillary because in striking contrast to her opponent’s hateful rhetoric and determination to insult and demean and discriminate, Hillary has built her career fighting for those who have been, or might otherwise have been, left behind, recognizing that we thrive with the inclusivity and equality at the core of our nation’s principles.

I am with Hillary because she will appoint responsible and thoughtful judges and justices to the Supreme Court whose commitment to civil rights and civil liberties will be sorely needed in light of the Shelby County v. Holder (2013) holding, which rolled back Voting Rights Act protections with respect to preclearance requirements in states with histories of discrimination and leaves minorities vulnerable to exceedingly long lines, restrictive photo ID laws, and intimidation.

I am with Hillary because I do not believe that my rights and protections should be determined by the fact that I happen to be heterosexual, because my worth and worthiness to marry should not be shaped by the gender of the people I love. 
 
I am with Hillary because she is a grown-up who understands that politics requires compromise and pragmatism along with hard work and yes, sometimes disappointment that is not fuel for revenge (or vengeful tweets) but rather rethinking how best to maximize policy progress in the face of roadblocks.
 
I am with Hillary because she believes in institutions, and know that at any point of disagreement with her ideologically, she will nevertheless maintain her faith and commitment to the vital political institutions – a free press and the separation of powers -- through which we debate ideas and how best to carry policy forward.
 
I am with Hillary because she makes me proud as an American and as a Democrat.
 
I hope that the rest of the nation is with me, and with her, on Election Day.  

​On November 4, 1992, I ran giddily around my school’s playground “informing” all of my teachers that Bill Clinton had won the presidency the night before. “Did you know that Clinton won???” I asked, to which I’m sure that they politely indulged in my view that I was in fact the purveyor of political news. I didn’t know what it meant exactly, but I knew from seeing my mother’s watching the results that in a year of a divorce, a move, and with limited financial means, things are changing for the better. Things were becoming possible again. Because in truth, what leads to depression and despair is not hardship in itself, but rather a conviction that tomorrow will be the same or worse than yesterday. For the man of Hope, Arkansas giving newfound hope to so many Americans that night, it was all so fitting that his campaign song would be “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow.”
 
When I was eight years old, upon observing that trees had been cut down along Highway 80 in the East Bay, I wrote a letter to then-Governor Pete Wilson “informing” him of the environmental benefits that we reap from having trees and the deleterious effects of cutting them down, and if he had any lingering questions or concerns, he should feel free to give me a call. (He didn’t).
 
I am not a religious person, not so much out of principle so much as by circumstance, and yet I was from the outset infused with a deep faith in the power of progress through civic engagement and community service, in the conviction that through hard work toward the greater good, to quote my favorite musician, dreams will not be thwarted and faith will be rewarded.
 
Indeed, when I was in college in 2008, I spent the home stretch of the election cycle in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, mobilizing the housing projects and other poor communities to register to vote, know their voting rights, and turn out at the polls on or before Election Day. I spoke with people who were eighteen and excited to see someone of their ethnicity become elected as President of the United States. I spoke with people who in their fifties had never before that year cast a vote, let alone seen a campaign worker on their doorstep. I spoke with people whose windows were boarded because they had felt so acutely the economic devastation that had overtaken so much of the United States under that presidential administration. The last home that I visited there will be forever burned into my brain: in the place where a door previously had been installed was only an old plaid sheet, frayed and fading and damp from the coldness of the fall.  And we spent election night with tears streaming down our cheeks having just made history, with the state being determined by fewer than 15,000 votes.
 
Having spent the home stretch of the 2012 presidential campaign in State College, PA, upon returning to New York City to celebrate the victory, my life changed the night of November 8. The morning after, on November 9, 2012, I took the longest shower of my life, let hot water run over bruises and trembling limbs, scrubbing myself clean as my heart continued to pound. I recounted whether I had said or only thought “no” or “stop.” I recounted to what extent I had physically struggled. I recounted whether we had flirted the previous night (we had). I recounted whether I had invited him to my apartment or whether he had followed me (he followed me). I recounted how many beers I had had that night in celebration of the election and to what extent that gave him license. I contemplated whether to report it (I didn’t). 
 
I have not thought about those moments more than amid the revelation of the Access Hollywood tape of Trump's boasting about sexual assault, though it undeniably has shaped much of my experience of the last four years. So many days seemed tainted, overcast and dismal with a weight upon me that made the pursuit of even simple tasks sometimes more than I could fathom. Far too many days were spent counting down the hours until it was socially acceptable to go back to bed. Far too many hours were spent feeling like a shadow of my former self. In twenty years, I’d reverted from the person who thought they wanted to one day be on the Supreme Court and who had always had a penchant for planning the future in granular detail along with the faith in the ability of phone calls to congressmen and swing state voters to make a difference in the political landscape (even at times imposing on my teachers to make calls about the filibuster and the Supreme Court, often accompanied by a lecture about civic duty), to someone incapable to looking more than hours ahead. At few if any points in 2015 and early 2016 did it feel as though tomorrow would be better than today.
 
And then something changed. Part of it was an exogenously imposed change of scenery as I schlepped my cats and me off to the San Francisco Bay Area for a month, with walks along the Ferry Building, perusals of City Lights Books, and consumptions of inordinate amounts of Zachary’s Pizza with my long-time friend giving me the physical and emotional strength of which I had for too long been devoid. Part of it was having the support of a truly amazing mother and some incomparably amazing friends. But it was also something more than that. It was Hillary Clinton.
 
In a time of rampant cynicism, in a time in which the Republican nominee was making headlines attacking people for their bodies or their ethnicity or their immigration status or their religious affiliation or their gender, Hillary Clinton talked about economic opportunity, healthcare, the environment, equal pay, human rights, women’s rights, education, fairness, and equality. While I have always disagreed with President Reagan, I was reminded of someone’s description of why, despite the economic devastation that his policies created, people loved him so: he made people feel good about America. What I found over the course of 2016 (though I have long supported Clinton, including in the 2008 primary) was a similar sense: I felt a renewed pride in being American and more specifically in being a Democrat, not to mention a renewed strength to persevere. For the first time in a long time, I felt again a sense of faith in the betterment of the future, renewed all the more so as I sat in Blue State Coffee in New Haven, Connecticut with my mother as we watched Hillary accept the Democratic Party’s nomination for President of the United States, tears streaming down our cheeks. Somewhere between Super Tuesday in the primary and the balloon drops of the convention, I found myself again.
 
It is not for lack of love of President Obama that my renewed sense of strength came from Clinton and not him. Indeed, having delivered economic progress coming out of the greatest economic devastation since the Great Depression and delivering the greatest healthcare expansion since 1965, he will go down in history as one of the more effective presidents in modern history. Yes, gender is part of the equation, though it is far from all of it (after all, Sarah Palin couldn’t be farther from my ideological preferences). Hillary is, for lack of better words, home to me, both as a familiar face in Democratic Party politics in the time when I became a political junkie, and as a fighter for the issues nearest and dearest to my heart (namely, healthcare). She is determined. She is scrappy. And she comes from many of the same values and temperament as much of my family, and there are innumerable times this year that I have wished that my grandmother were still alive to see what will soon become of our country (if all goes well). My grandmother, who worked in the California State Capital while raising five children, was a no-nonsense woman who valued hard work and determination, but also compassion, saying, “If it’s mine to give, it’s yours to have.” Similarly, in clinching the required number of delegates for the Democratic Party nomination, Hillary spoke of the influence that her mother had: “She was my rock, from the day I was born till the day she left us… My mother believed that life is about serving others. And she taught me never to back down from a bully, which, it turns out, was pretty good advice.” In a time in my life in which faith and resilience seemed all-too-hard to come by, something about Hillary’s words (and of course her record) resonated, and I knew that knocked down though I most definitely had been, I was not going to be knocked out but rather obtain (and maintain) faith in better tomorrows ahead and find strength on those broken places.
 
On November 8, 2016, our country’s future is at stake, and we have a choice that transcends party identification, striking instead much deeper issues of democracy and faith in the system itself. It is the day on which we must reject cynicism about our democratic process and not not stoop to hate and intolerance about who we love or the color of our skin or our religious affiliation or national origin. It is a day on which we must remind ourselves that America’s greatness depends on our defending the equality and justice upon which our constitution rests.
 
 On November 8, I am more ready than ever to make this new memory.