I am Hilary Roddam

Hilary, I can sympathize with you. There was a point in time when I could see what was happening and knew I could reverse it too. Way to pull out the weapon of women.

A story:

When I was at the end of 4th grade, I thought I would run for student council. I had some issues with the way we as a school had dealt with the other weaker schools and I thought that I knew how to stop all of those unwanted people from leaking into our school. And I was quite sure that I really did have the connections to get the chocolate milk to come out of the water fountains.

D-Day arrived and I had prepared the political speech of a lifetime. (Ok, truth be told, my mom made up most of it, and I thought it was kinda lame, but it was all I had.) That morning, I had spoken with my campaign manager and understood what was left in the budget: we were down to the very last of it-- it was now or never. I was to speak in front of those with the most political pull in the school: the 4-6th graders... all of them... at once.

I left the speech (it was more like an extremely cheesy song) in my desk in Mrs. Conrad's portable room. I knew I could do it without help. I sat patiently as the "Egg-ceptional" Udall kid went, and then the popcorn chick (covered in kernels larger than car tires) and the Mary Engelbreit chick... I did get squirmy when the "Got Jordan" speech went.... that one is so catchy. And new.

I walked up to the stage and my shaking hands pulled the mic down two feet. Then I looked to good ole' principal Dan Young on the right side of the stage, and then to my left where PE teacher Rocky Pool smiled back. Both good friends of mine- friends on the inside.

I opened my mouth and the dreadful first line of that poor car-commercial-like jingle came out of me. Then I froze. I don't know if I subconsciously wanted to forget the bad lyrics, or if I really did at this point, but I did. I looked to Pool who returned a reassuring look... but nothin.

After what felt like about a half an hour of staring into the faces of those much older and wiser, a sound came from the very back wall. It was my mom. She had shouted the next line of the song so all could hear. No way. I can't believe it. I felt red all over, something that doesn't happen to me all that often. I ran down the stairs and out the door of the auditorium of stunned children and parents and teachers and out the door to the front of the school and hid.

Over the next few days, my fellow schoolmates let me know how they felt. Most replied, "we voted for you because we felt bad for you." I get it. And I am ok with sympathy.

I won. I think it was the sympathy and not my ideas on foreign policy that they loved. A kid in my neighborhood caught me in the hallway and snidely remarked, "you only won because you cried," (I beat him) "next year, all I have to do is cry and I'll win." With my new confidence I said, yeah- too bad you didn't think of that, huh!

So Hilary... I get you. I just hope the men do. But I don't think they do... or will.