Someday, I would like to have a president who has suffered.
I would like to elect someone who had to drop out of high school to work an extra job. Someone who watched the sidewalk for pennies because every cent mattered. Someone who didn’t wonder what to eat for dinner, but if there was anything to eat for dinner, and if they could afford it.
I would like to elect a woman who was been called rude names on the streets, harassed, raped, had an abortion, been overlooked for a promotion or paid less than her coworkers because of her gender.
I would like to elect someone who has been gay bashed, physically assaulted, bullied in the hallways between classes.
I would like to elect someone who grew up in a neighborhood where you were more likely to hear sirens coming down the street than the ice cream truck. Where going outside risked being mugged or being shot not for any reason beyond the fact that you were there.
I would like to elect a president who doesn’t talk about how perfect America is all the time because he or she knows there are problems, and they are actually going to fix them.