“But as I watched her campaign, I saw something else, too. She wasn’t just running as a teacher or a wonk. Elizabeth Warren was running as a woman. She was unapologetic about it. It went beyond embracing her identity as a teacher, though an identity as a teacher is surely gendered itself. Her stump speech included her own personal story of being alone with her children in Texas, with no idea how she was going to take care of them and also have a career. (She only managed to have one because her aunt came to watch the kids while Warren went to law school.) Later on in the campaign, she expanded her story further backward, to include her experience being let go from her first teaching job—a job she loved—because she was visibly pregnant. It wasn’t necessarily a winning narrative for her—the press jumped all over it, suggesting she was lying about the discrimination and picking her story apart for discrepancies. But it did resonate with one group of voters—women who in turn shared their own stories of discrimination in their pregnancies.
Warren was teaching here too. She was trying to explain to people what, exactly, it is like to be a woman in America, still, today. Her lessons were not just drawn from her own life, either. Warren launched her campaign in Lawrence, Massachusetts, the site of 1912’s Bread and Roses strike, led by seamstresses. She told those seamstresses’ stories, and she told other stories of other working-class women, black women, who led labor movements decades ago. In Atlanta, she spoke of the washerwomen who went on strike in 1881; in New York she spoke of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory tragedy. At one of her last appearances before Super Tuesday in L.A., she told the story of 1990’s Justice for Janitors strike, an effort led by immigrant women.* I was not surprised to see attendees describe it as a “lecture” on Twitter afterward—Warren’s events were closer to lectures than rallies. She was trying to teach people their own history, a project she understood as essential for building a better future.”
Still, apparently, unacceptable in women seeking power:
“The campaigns of those who deviate from the traditional model of the American president—the campaign of anyone who is not white and Christian and male—will always carry more than their share of weight. But Warren had something about her, apparently: something that galled the pundits and the public in a way that led to assessments of her not just as “strident” and “shrill,” but also as “condescending.” The matter is not merely that the candidate is unlikable, these deployments of condescending imply. The matter is instead that her unlikability has a specific source, beyond bias and internalized misogyny. Warren knows a lot, and has accomplished a lot, and is extremely competent, condescending acknowledges, before twisting the knife: It is precisely because of those achievements that she represents a threat. Condescending attempts to rationalize an irrational prejudice. It suggests the lurchings of a zero-sum world—a physics in which the achievements of one person are insulting to everyone else. When I hear her talk, I want to slap her, even when I agree with her.
To run for president is to endure a series of controlled humiliations. It is to gnaw on bulky pork products, before an audience at the Iowa State Fair. It is to be asked about one’s skin-care routine, and to be prepared to defend the answer. The accusation of condescension, however, is less about enforced humiliation than it is about enforced humility. It cannot be disentangled from Warren’s gender. The paradox is subtle, but punishing all the same: The harder she works to prove to the public that she is worthy of power—the more evidence she offers of her competence—the more “condescending,” allegedly, she becomes.”
“Instead, and accepting that sexism and misogyny were marbled throughout everything about the campaign, I think what did her in was her ideas. She committed herself to a campaign specifically to fight political corruption, both the legal and illegal kind. As an adjunct to that, she marshaled her long fight against the power of money in our politics and monopoly in our economy. And, opposed to Bernie Sanders, whose answer to how to wage the fight is always the power of his “movement,” which so far hasn’t been able to break through against Joe Biden, she put out detailed plans on how to do it. That made her much more of a threat to the money power than Sanders, who is easily dismissed as a fringe socialist by the people who buy elections and own the country.”
My favorite thing about the primary election cycle in 2020 has been the mainstream media being forced to acknowledge how a few tiny, mostly unrepresentative states’ early calendar placement warps their coverage of the entire primary season. Seriously. Like, as of now, Bernie Sanders, the front-runner, has 58 delegates. Joe Biden, the establishment favorite, has 50. Elizabeth Warren, my preferred candidate, lags at 8. Mike Bloomberg has 0, but he does have $60,000,000,000.
To win the nomination takes 1,991. Tomorrow, 1,357 are up for grabs. A week later, 365. A week after that, another 577. Which gets us to 61%, according to Vox.
All of which is to say, this isn’t over, however convenient it might be for the media’s preferred narrative.
And hey, if Sanders or Biden or Bloomberg’s your guy, then by all means, vote for your guy. That’s what we’re supposed to do, come the primary season. For what it’s worth, I’d have said the same about Buttigieg and Klobuchar, if they hadn’t dropped out.
But if your guy isn’t a guy at all, if your candidate, like mine, is Elizabeth Warren, then you should vote for her.
I mean, Elizabeth Warren is far and away the best candidate on the merits. She not only understands the depth and breadth of the problems facing us, from incipient climate disaster to the drivers of wealth inequality to the descent into authoritarianism and white nationalist fascism our oligarchic overlords have decided is more in their interest than the messy unpredictability of democracy, where the mass of people they’re the cancer on might decide it was time for a bit of elective surgery. In addition to her well-developed and wide-ranging arsenal of plans, her singular focus on rooting out corruption and getting rid of the institutional brakes — like the filibuster — that keep change from being enacted is our best chance at reversing the trends that are destroying us. And her deep, complex understanding of the powers — and limitations — of the Presidency would make her a more effective Executive and Commander-In-Chief than anyone else in the field.
That much, to me, is obvious. But a whole lot of people seem to think it’s time for her to get out of the way so we can figure out which white man in his late seventies to put up against the white man in his late seventies currently driving the country over a cliff into a dumpster fire that is also a toilet we’re going down the drain of and which will dump us, eventually, in Hell. If it hasn’t already.
The problem, we’re told, is she’s a woman. Not that the people telling us that are sexist. Nor, for the most part, are the people listening. Far from it. They’re not prejudiced at all. It’s those other, other people. The ones who are prejudiced and sexist, who are the problem. It’s a sad calculation, but we must bow to pragmatism, and accept the prejudices of those we’ll have to educate more later for now.
To which I say, all my bollocks. Because it’s not pragmatism being bowed to in that calculation. It’s prejudice. It’s sexism. It’s the same old self-fulfilling prophecy. Put it like this: if your reason not to vote for a woman is because you’re afraid other people won’t, you’ve surrendered to sexism without a fight, no matter your personal convictions.
To be honest, I think that capitulation is even more sexist than being a misogynist prick who actively works against women’s agency and representation. Because that guy, at least, is honest. He’s standing up for what he believes in, even though what he believes in is wrong. The person who concedes in advance to that guy is not only declining to stand up for what they believe in, they’re declining to say that guy is wrong. They’re letting perception, someone else’s preferred narrative, drive their choices, when the reality is that possibility’s still wide open.
To me, Elizabeth Warren’s the best candidate running, hands down. She has the best ideas, the best story, the best mind, and would, to my estimation, be the effective, transformative President our country, and history, need. If you think elsewise, that’s fine. But I’ll be goddamned if I’m not going to vote for her this primary season because I’m afraid she might lose because of her gender.
Like the importance of Iowa and New Hampshire and Nevada and South Carolina — with all due respect to the voters of those states — the perception that America is too sexist to elect a woman President is just a perception, one rooted more in the interests of those most invested in a status quo that needs to change than in reality, present and future. I, for one, am not gonna let it warp my actions, and goddamnit, I don’t think you should, either.
Vote for Elizabeth Warren.
Long read, but well worth the time, and worth quoting at some length:
“Again and again, throughout 2014 and afterward — and, really, well before that, as women in online subcultures withstood years of targeted harassment — many failed to understand and assess what Gamergate was. The media, tech platforms, the niche internet communities these reactionaries came from (places with marginally obscure names like 4chan, 8chan, and Voat, for instance), the corporations they easily manipulated, and the general public, who seemed to take it in as nebulous online noise; no one properly identified Gamergate as a major turning point for the internet. The hate campaign, we would later learn, was the moment when our ability to repress toxic communities and write them off as just “trolls” began to crumble. Gamergate ultimately gave way to something deeper, more violent, and more uncontrollable.
And in the same way that none of those years of escalating online assaults against women prepared us for Gamergate, somehow, the formation of Gamergate itself didn’t prepare society for the cultural rise of the alt-right. The journalists who did anticipate that Gamergate could and would morph into something worse were, by 2015, drowned out by the general cultural idea that Gamergate had somehow “failed”— even though it was a movement inherently meant to scale and grow. Somehow, the idea that all of that sexism and anti-feminist anger could be recruited, harnessed, and channeled into a broader white supremacist movement failed to generate any real alarm, even well into 2016, when all the pieces were firmly in place.
In other words, even though all the signs were there in 2014 that a systematized online harassment campaign could lead to an escalation in real-world violence, most people failed to see what was happening. Gamergate ultimately made us all much more aware of the potential real-world impact of online extremism. Yet, years after Gamergate, despite increasing evidence suggesting a connection between online violence against women and real-world violence — including mass shootings — many corporations and social media platforms still struggle to identify and eradicate extreme forms of violence against women from online spaces.
The public’s failure to understand and accept that the alt-right’s misogyny, racism, and violent rhetoric is serious goes hand in hand with its failure to understand and accept that such rhetoric is identical to that of President Trump. Now we see similar ideologies as Gamergaters from someone as powerful as Trump. He retweets and amplifies alt-right memes on his Twitter; his son openly affiliates with the alt-right; Trump defended and continues to present the 2017 “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, North Carolina, as though it wasn’t intentionally planned and organized as a white supremacist rally. (It was.)
As described by Vox’s Ezra Klein, Trump’s willingness to engage in incendiary racist rhetoric is similar to the tactics that have led many journalists to dismiss his followers as trolls: “He chooses his enemies based on who he thinks will rile up his base. He uses outrageous, offensive insults to get the media to take notice. And then he feeds off the energy unleashed by the confrontation.” In other words, he and his followers — many of whom, again, are members of the extreme online right-wing that got its momentum from Gamergate — are using the strategy Gamergate codified: deploying offensive behavior behind a guise of mock outrage, irony, trolling, and outright misrepresentation, in order to mask the sincere extremism behind the message.”