As the 2016 election cycle approaches its climactic conclusion, so many of us are left wondering how history will remember what’s been regarded as, for lack of a better phrase, the year America lost its mind.
It’s a kind of Hamilton-esque line of questioning; wondering how the enormity of a female presidential nominee can be conveyed, asking what genre would best capture the dramaticized rhetoric, and realizing there’s only so many words that rhyme with “China.”
In truth, our collective consciousness has been irrevocably shifted by the sociopolitical consequences this election has already created, and will undoubtedly perpetuate, on both sides of the party line.
But the uneasiness brought upon me by the two major party candidates, and what can only be described as the below-the-belt antics of this race, are not what particularly bother me as of late.
As I watched the third presidential debate a few nights ago, I braced myself for the inevitable palm-to-face reflex my body exhibits whenever I hear Donald Trump speak. I knew he’d be brash, because he always is.
The banter proceeded between he and Secretary Clinton, as it almost always does, with an occasional nod to the actual questions being posed.
What truly shocked me though, proving that Mr. Trump can surprisingly still elicit that response, was an innocuous four-letter phrase thrown in as his opponent attempted to explain her proposed tax plan:
The scoff.
The smug-eyed look on his face.
He really thought he had her.
Yet, what perturbed me most was not Clinton’s presumed nastiness as per Trump, but that her decades of legal and political experience could, in the potential leader of the free world’s mind, be boiled down to his belief that she’s a woman who, for lack of a less offensive term, doesn’t know her place.
To self-perceived master of the universe Donald J.Trump, former Secretary-of-State Hillary Rodham Clinton is just another notch on the proverbial dashboard.
So why does this concern me?
Regarding my womanhood, I believe the question answers itself. Contrary to what Donald Trump may believe, though, my identity is not solely encompassed by my gender. I am also a born-and-raised Christian, and I am not voting for the Republican nominee.
True, I am a registered Democrat, and my political views veer slightly to the left of what’s standard. But my leanings, or any Christian woman’s for that matter, are not what’s really at stake. When one pushes back the blind rhetoric, all one sees in Mr. Trump is a blatant misogynist; a man who has serially testified through his words and actions that women are worth no more than the sexual acts he feels entitled to. All this from the supposed “Christian candidate.”
Hillary Clinton’s platform is by no means a conservative one. I can see how that would rattle some heads. Secretary Clinton, at her very core, is an individual who defies the implied subservience of womanhood long perpetuated by political and religious fundamentalism.
She refuses to be defined solely as a man’s wife, or as a child’s mother.
She is outspoken in her ambitions, and carries herself with the confidence that she can achieve them.
Most pertinent to her current circumstances, Hillary Clinton is not afraid to look a man in the eye, and tell him that he’s wrong.
So, my fellow women of faith, it is not her stance on same-sex marriage, her belief in women’s reproductive rights, or even her e-mails that make our Democratic candidate a “nasty woman.” Her implied nastiness is nothing more than the offspring of her pride. And a proud woman, more than anything else, is damning to the patriarchal pedestal that Donald Trump stands on.
I’ve long come to terms with the notion that I am what some consider an oddity. I am a Christian. I am a woman. I am a liberal- and I'm not ashamed. I cannot deny my individual parts, and I will not relinquish my liberty to express them.
Now, more than ever, I encourage Christian women across this country to think beyond parties, policies and even politics in general. I want you to carefully consider the kind of women you want to be- whether you’re willing to silence yourselves with the punch of a ballot, or maybe, just maybe, take a chance on a fellow woman who believes, above anything else, that you deserve one, too.
Laurel Thatcher Ulrich said that, “Well behaved women seldom make history.” Come Election Day, let’s prove to Donald Trump that she was right.
