Last Friday night, I spontaneously decided to accompany my roommate and his brother to Las Vegas. The last time I was in Vegas was for my 22nd birthday. Back then, I strutted the Strip uncomfortably in heels and drank my weight in vodka. This Vegas trip was different. We woke up at 4:30 a.m. on Saturday and made our way to one of Hillary Clinton's campaign field offices outside of downtown Vegas.
Decked out in our finest Hillary fashion, we got our canvassing packet and set out. As much as I am ashamed to admit it, this was my first time knocking on doors. In my head, I would be walking down a neighborhood street, houses neatly in a line, going from house to house. When we were confronted with a large apartment community with complicated pathways and cryptic building numbers I knew we had our work cut out for us.
It's Vegas, so it was hot. As the three of us began to slowly sweat through our shirts, we navigated the walkways. We had been sent to this area which was a "high priority" because it had an extremely low turnout in early voting. Out of our first 50 doors, we only had one person answer. We left pamphlets at everyone else's, but I was really hoping to have conversations with people -- to feel like I was connecting. Knock, knock... no answer... and repeat. But as we frustratingly found our way through this maze in the middle of the desert we were still motivated. Motivated for our country.
As we neared the end of our journey in this particular complex we encountered two guys sitting on their porch. They were drinking beer and a college football game was blasting from inside. We said hello as we walked by and they stopped us -- asked what we were doing. We explained that we were campaigning for Hillary and I saw an opportunity. I asked them if they were planning on voting on Tuesday -- they laughed and said they couldn't. Confused, I inquired why not. Again, they laughed -- they weren't registered. As my initial shock that two Americans in a swing state weren't even registered to vote settled, I tried to explain that they should so they could vote in the next election.
I was getting down on myself for not turning back and putting those men in their place. I was going against the very thing that I was campaigning for -- strength.
Then, the situation unraveled a bit. While my roommate and his brother clearly saw a hopeless situation, I pushed back. I tried to explain to them why it was important to vote. But my plea didn't resonate -- they started to mock me. They asked nonsensical questions that somehow made me feel dumb and flustered. They sipped their beers as they laughed at us -- at our efforts to do something for the country... for them. I realized the attempt to engage was futile and we moved on. But as I walked away one of them called after me. I should clarify: catcalled after me.
They shouted things about my "booty" and my "legs" and other similar comments that I chose to not hear but my roommate did. For a moment, I considered turning back to them -- facing them and telling them that they shouldn't say things like that. But I didn't. I didn't want to "deal" with that. I was tired and my feet hurt and we still had hours of door knocking ahead of us, so I kept on walking. My roommate and his brother apologized - seemingly on behalf of all men - that that had happened. We all realized how screwed up and awful it was. But then again, it's not like it's something that is rare. It's not like it's something every woman doesn't deal with on a weekly basis. I was used to it. I shouldn't be, but I was.
The day finished. We got a little luckier with our door knocking and I was feeling really good about what we accomplished, but I still couldn't get those two guys out of my mind. They were just like any other two guys who inappropriately commented on my appearance, but for some reason this time felt different. I felt affected by it in a way that surprised me. It was sticking with me and I finally figured out why.
Ostensibly, they called after me because I was wearing short shorts that tastefully exposed my upper thigh. The shorts were loose so maybe as I turned away from them, they caught a glimpse of a bit of my butt. So what? That doesn't give them or anybody else the right to say a damn thing about my body. I have worked hard every single day of my life for my long strong legs and my good butt. My booty's strength got me a rowing scholarship to college. It powered me through triathlons and yoga classes. To have a stranger -- a rude one nonetheless -- comment so confidently and offensively about it is not okay.
But beyond the short shorts, I was also wearing a Hillary Clinton t-shirt. It said "Love Trumps Hate." Love is kindness. Love is respect. And love is feeling comfortable that the people around you are good and decent. The reason this one particular catcalling incident felt so heavy to me was because I was in the process of trying to help our country elect its first female president. I was trying to, one might say, spread the love.
The irony of it was what struck me. I was getting down on myself for not turning back and putting those men in their place. I was going against the very thing that I was campaigning for -- strength. But really, I can't blame myself, right? The issue is much larger. This situation was representative of a much bigger reality. A reality in which some men -- let me emphasize only some -- feel the right to call out after a woman in such a way. A reality in which a young women who wears some makeup and puts on cute pair of shorts has her day of service turned around. This is the reality we need to fix.
I am not supporting Hillary Clinton simply because she is a woman. I think she will be the most incredible and effective president for a whole host of reasons. However, the fact that she is a woman inspires me. It inspires me to believe I can achieve far more than I think I can. It inspires me that girls around the country and the world can see something in themselves they couldn't before. And it inspires me because maybe, just maybe, with a woman in the most powerful position in the world, men like those two standing on their porch will think twice before they call out after a woman. They will see that if a woman can be president of the United States, all women deserve a little more dignity.