Where Does the Dream of a Female President Go From Here?

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was still the Democratic party’s nominee, a man I didn’t know appeared on my property out of nowhere to call me a witch. He didn’t mean I was cranky or mean.

He meant a real witch. The kind you try to exorcise with burning sage and singing bowls—or that was his approach, at least, waving and stirring as I sat at my desk on the other side of the window, working.

On that November Tuesday, I thought to myself: What the hell—maybe you are. Maybe if you reverse what you did when Hillary lost, Kamala will win.The vibe that day at my polling location was joyful.

A deejay played outside. People were chatty, cooperative, upbeat. Every time someone identified themselves as a first-time voter, our whole staff applauded.

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