no regrets

it's easy and convenient, and maybe too frequent, for us to gauge victory in tangible terms. a win is a win, for instance; and a loss, no matter how engaging or fulfilling, is a loss. right now, as barack obama claims the democratic nomination and hillary clinton prepares to concede, i feel like the victor. maybe that language is a little too self-congratulatory - i'll say, instead, that i feel fulfilled. i was a part of her campaign from the beginning, and though there is a sense of loss - will i ever regain the time i spent working for her evasive victory? probably not - i'm struck more by my feeling of accomplishment, of satisfaction, of pride in my chosen candidate than whatever regrets or recriminations i could fashion.

instead, with all that has happened and with all that will happen, i'm more than satisfied with my decisions. i could have supported her from my desk chair, i suppose; i could have been satiated with petty donations and occasional blog posts, or talked to my friends and neighbors (the most useless box a potential volunteer could check on our GET INVOLVED sheets). i could have done this or that, walked into a campaign office when the fancy struck or when i had the spare time, making calls with passionate indifference. but i didn't do that. i'm proud of the fact that i gave up  a semester for hillary clinton. and if that semester wasn't as successful as it could have been - she did not, in fact, win the democratic nomination - i've no hesitancy to fight for my beliefs.

my mother didn't quite see it that way; it took a while for her to regain her composure. working and on break, she had to fight a few co-workers to change the channel to CNN in time for hillary's speech. as she told me later, she felt a sense of emptiness and futility watching her on tv - those hours we spent calling behind our desks, persuading the good folks of northern new hampshire to support a woman for the presidency, the photos i sent her, the relationships i cultivated in plymouth: these were wasted, for our candidate did not win.

but my time off was more than that. it was more than phone calls, canvass packets, volunteers and interns, photos, snowbanks, expense reports. it was cathartic, relieving, real. i wouldn't trade that experience - the people i met, the stories i heard, the urges to quit i had to fight and the sense of fate i had to embrace - for anything. i grew more during those six months in new hampshire than i had in a full year of harvard. and i actually made history by doing it.

people will say (in fact, pundits are already saying it) that hillary clinton should have conceded tonight. these are the same people who said that she should concede after iowa, after super tuesday, after ohio, after pennsylvania, after indiana, after west virginia, after kentucky, after puerto rico. these are also the same people who said she was the inevitable candidate before any contest was conducted. they will demean her, belittle her, repeat the charges and accusations that have followed her since she declined her husband's name and began making more money than the governor. but they won't be able to take away the fact that she was the first woman to win a presidential primary; and they won't be able to take away the fact that i was a part of it.