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Just received this e-mail from a friend, a Washington lawyer who is a lifelong Democrat and a generous donor to the party. She supported Hillary in the primary and is undecided about what she'll do in November:
I just read your XX column, and I wanted to share a couple thoughts. Even though Hillary characterized her campaign as a big feminist movement in her exit speech, I'm not sure all her supporters saw it that way. I also think the risk of defection to McCain is very real, and not limited to uneducated, working class types. Just in my office, I know 6-7 women, all lifelong Democrats from VA who are now planning to vote for McCain. They are all highly educated people who follow politics closely, and a couple even worked for Dems on the Hill at one point or another. The decision to defect to McCain has nothing to do with Hillary as a woman or Obama's personality. They like Obama enough as a person, but they think he's an empty suit—rhetoric with little record behind it. Even if they agree more with Obama's positions, it seems risky to put such an inexperienced person in the White House—especially after what happened last time. I think the media misses this. It is not all about feminism.
Having said that, I know there is a bit of truth to the feminist argument. I also know a strong, pro-choice Democrat from Maryland—someone who regularly hosts NARAL dinners—who is defecting to McCain, even though she understands his views on abortion. I doubt if this woman ever even voted for any Republican before in her whole life, and she just contributed to McCain's campaign. Truly amazing! I think Obama will have a real problem in the Electoral College if he does not find a way to reach out to the people who voted against him—for whatever reason. For now, I'm undecided and I'm planning on staying that way for a while. My big issue is the economy and both Obama and McCain are weak in that area, so it probably doesn't matter much.
I answered her that the experience issue doesn't resonate with me, especially as Cheney and Rummy had been around since the last ice age, and where did that get us? Hillary has been in the Senate only four years longer than Obama: big whoop. If you count his time in the Illinois Senate, he's actually had more experience as an elected official. (And while of course her experience as first lady counts for something, would we give Laura Bush full credit for those years—even though, as she belatedly tells us, she, too, had a big policy role all along?) The whole experience question just feels like a stand-in for race, or maybe something else I'm missing. Because when someone says they would slit their wrist before voting for Obama, that is NOT about Clinton having been in the Senate longer.
And here's my friend's response, which shows that hurt feelings cut both ways during the primary season, and opened some wounds that Obama must now work hard to help heal:
I think her years as first lady count for something, but regardless, she has a much better command of the issues. He was a back-bencher in the state senate, not committee chair, etc. ... He improved during the debates, but even at the end he was flubbing basic tax, economic, and foreign policy issues. Maybe I've been dealing with those issues for too long, but honestly, he is constantly struggling for answers and contradicting himself. I think it would help if he gave voters a sense of who he would appoint to his Cabinet. If he is just going to be an inspirational figurehead, I'd like to know who's going to be advising him. ... Bottom line—the divisions here are very, very deep for all sorts of reasons, and Obama has got to find a way to reach out. Many people are hurt by all the name calling in the campaign. [My son] was repeatedly called a racist at school for supporting Hillary, and I know they have had to address similar issues in [a private school in Washington]. I've heard that some African-American women who supported Hillary were subjected to threats and taunting. Of course, it's not Obama making those comments, and people need to realize that there is a downside to all that young voter passion, but it does not make you want to switch to the other team. Five years ago, I would have voted for McCain in a heartbeat because I've always liked him. He's definitely sold out to the right in those five years, though, and that's what gives me pause.'
That she's even thinking McCain should give her party pause, too.
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I was not one of those people who cried when I heard Obama's now-famous speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention. Nor did I find it so spectacularly brilliant as to be beyond any critical analysis. I thought it was a really good speech, but I also felt it was too laden with buzz words meant to signal that he was indeed a different kind of black candidate. When he said: "There's not a black America and white America ... there's the United States of America," and the crowd went wild, I disagreed. We all know that there are two very distinct Americas separated by class and color. I understood that people embraced the speech because its sense of optimism went right to the heart of American idealism—not American realism.
I also did not get all warm and teary about Obama's Philadelphia speech last March. It was an important and necessary speech, for sure; but again, I found it too calculated and believe it was mostly meant to appease white voter anxiety about the Jeremiah Wright controversy and assuage fears that Obama might be a closet racist and black militant.
As I watched Obama's speech last night, however, I could not stop crying, and I was surprised by my reaction. It, too, was clearly a carefully scripted, political speech. So why did it crack through my cynical and hardened heart? Because it allowed me to take a deep breath of relief.
I've been holding my breath throughout the primary campaign, waiting with dread for his candidacy to implode—for him to be struck down by scandal, dirty political tricks, racism, a media obsessed with his being "the first black man" with a realistic chance at the presidency. And, of course, I thought the Clinton Machine might take him down. Seeing him on that stage yesterday, regal in his bearing, unapologetic for having stuck to his audacity of hope, knowing he had won a battle he fought hard for and won fairly, and with dignity and grace—two words that can no longer be ascribed to the Clinton candidacy—made me deeply hopeful. That's why I cried. I felt happy for him, for us, for this country. Yesterday's speech not only went to the heart of American idealism, it also wrote a new narrative for American realism. Whether Obama wins or loses in the fall, we all won something special yesterday.