Due to a fortunate case of random planning, I booked a trip to visit my cousin in Seattle the weekend before the New York primary. This was lucky for me because NYC was alive with more than just its usual fervor, and it was stressing me out. Ambitious energy permeated the city from all sides, which I especially noticed emanating out of my peers (the young passionate folk). As a Hillary supporter, I was made anxious by Bernie’s push for a big win. A trip was just what I needed to take a break from the weight of the coming Tuesday.

During a night out in Seattle, the democratic race slid into the conversation. Bernie won Washington in a landslide victory weeks earlier, but I felt confident speaking to why Hillary was my choice if necessary. Of course Bernie’s views are ideal, but that doesn’t mean he’s the best one for the job, right?

As I listened to the conversation progress, I noticed I was severely outnumbered. I didn’t feel overwhelmed by this until my cousin politely disclosed that I was for Hillary. I’d like to stress that my cousin’s friends are awesome people. They aren’t “Bernie Bros” trying to mansplain my views into their own. They weren’t trying to make me uncomfortable or change my mind. Nonetheless, something happened that I have noticed a lot this campaign season: after my cousin exposed me, it was as if the word “Prude” illuminated across my forehead.  For the first time since high school, I felt myself defending my liberalness (mostly to myself, as the shock of this realization shut me up). My support of Hillary automatically put me further right on the spectrum compared to Bernie followers, and I was pissed.

I was feeling isolated by people whose side I’m on and by my own self-consciousness in being “a good liberal.” Like many Hillary supporters have openly admitted, I like Bernie. I support his campaign and appreciate the way he is challenging our government. He makes Hillary better. He makes us better. But I don’t believe that he deserves my vote.

In my isolation, I drunkenly texted a close friend and managed to define a feeling that still resonates with my sober self…

And the truth is, I am asking for Bernie. I’m asking for him to persist in challenging the way we demand progress as a country. I’m asking for him to continue to boost Hillary’s liberal growth. But I am not asking him to be our democratic candidate, and that does not diminish my passion for progress. I am not a political prude, and I won’t allow my liberalness to be threatened because I’m choosing to abstain from Bernie. This connection was crucial to re-invigorating my confidence in being a woman voting for the woman and not just because she is a woman. It’s because I believe that idealism like Bernie’s can encourage us to dream big, but tactics, strategies, and politics like Hillary’s will actually function to get portions of that progress. It may appear less passionate, but it’s my passion for tangible change that has me voting Clinton.

The rest of the night was great. I had a casual moment of self-realization and alignment, then we moved on from political talk and ended up chowing down on Dick’s Burgers back at my cousin’s apartment (milkshakes=happiness). I woke up the next morning with a renewed sense of passion for my candidate. Turns out a weekend away was the perfect choice, and I have never been more confident in mine. #ImWithHer

GOOD LUCK TODAY HILL