We Can and Should Send Thank You Notes to Hillary Clinton

There's no real answer to coping with the grief that this election has caused, but I know as I watched the country turn red all I wanted to do was turn to Hillary Clinton. If, like me, you wish you could say something to let her know you won't forget the work that went into this powerful campaign, below is the the address to send Hillary your heartfelt shoutout (courtesy of YA writer Heidi Heilig).

This is my personal letter to Hillary Clinton that I'll be sending as well. Let's make sure she hears us.

Dear Hillary Clinton,

It breaks my heart not to be able to address this to "My Future President," as I had gotten so used to calling you. Though, maybe one day, who knows? Actually, no matter what my heart wants, no matter what my heart hurts for, you should probably get some rest right now. Because it's safe to say you're the hardest working person in politics, and also that you probably can't sleep too soundly right now. I can't sleep either. I feel like we all know why, so there's no reason to dwell on what was lost. I want to dwell on what I gained from getting to know you as a representative of what I stand for and who I want to be.

We're hearing the word "fight" a lot right now, and when we look for a role model to inspire that fight in the days to come, we don't need to look any further than who we had standing right in front of us, in all her pantsuit glory, telling us that hope and love and equality are an option. They continue to be an option. You've never lost sight of that, you've never stopped fighting, and that's why I believe in you. That's why I'll continue to work hard like you have, to make myself a champion for the goodness in this world, and to never accept any less than what I - a proud gay woman with more diversity in my friend and family circles than I can detail right now - deserve. 

I didn't realize so much of this nation was powered by fear. I'm isolated here in New York. I grew up in Texas, but even then I went to an art school and came home to liberal Jewish parents and two queer siblings. I lost touch with the reality of fear and what it drives people to do. Yesterday, too many in this nation made it clear that they are scared of powerful women. More than that, they demonstrated that they're scared of a powerful, intelligent, unstoppable woman who rose above them all because she deserves it and they don't. I was taught to be so proud of being a woman by the people in my life - by you - that I forgot proud women can be viewed as a threat for nothing more than their strength. You were the most qualified candidate likely in history. Of course they were scared. What they didn't know is that they need you. They still do, and their fear has potentially ruined their own lives.

My heart has shattered because you gave me so much to believe in, but it's also what you gave me that is slowly rebuilding my heart, that is leading me into action, that is helping me believe the fight's never over. No one is perfect, but as we heard so much in this election from your campaign: we are good. We won't lose that goodness because, in many ways, we can't. We don't know right from wrong, we feel it. We cherish human life, and we cherish the experiences of those who are different from us. That we are flawed helps us learn. That we learn helps us grow. As we grow, we help the world grow and, one day, we can build something universally beautiful. I believe that's the reality we live in, and that right now, we are forging a hard-won path to victory. 

I never considered myself a political person. What I learned this year is that politics is rooted in humanity. It's not some looming, mysterious machine that's cold and untouchable like I believed it was as a kid. It's in the hands of the people. It's on the ground, marching forward, as my friend and I did for your campaign in Philadelphia to ensure people knew their polling locations. Our democracy is not a solo song, but a chorus of voices joining together. Today, I and so many people I love have been cut from that particular melody, but I'm still singing yours. Nothing can take away my voice.

Thank you for staying so long in a field that bruises and bleeds its champions dry. Thank you for a life of service, which I assume will continue, not out of guilt or expectation but because I feel I've come to know you well enough to know that you cannot let yourself be taken away from us when we still need you on the front lines. I don't know that I've fully comprehended that this page in history has turned, and I'm certainly sure I don't want to, but if I live in denial, I can't move forward. If I don't move forward, I can't inspire the people in my life to come with me on a journey that could save lives and restore the America I know is peaking out underneath all that fear. After all, here in my unbreakable LGBTQ community, we know love wins.

I hope you know you were on the right side of history every step of the way, and I will follow in your footsteps as closely as I can. I'm stumbling right now. I'm scared, but I'll keep going until I don't feel so afraid anymore. It might take years. You've made it your life's work. Now, it's mine. Thank you.

With love,

Rebekah