Art provided by Juliette Robertson ’25<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Mama, I Wanna Be President! \u2018<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I was a little girl, I sauntered up to my mother and said<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMama, I wanna be president!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the time I didn\u2019t understand<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The power dynamic between woman and man<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I never knew why the color of one\u2019s skin<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Makes them any less than kin<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to solve the world’s inequalities<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted everybody to be happy<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She told me I\u2019d be the first woman to do it<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I wanted to be a name alongside<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Women leading the country and changing minds of those who said they couldn\u2019t<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I was seven years old, I was at the Javits Center<\/p>\n\n\n\n
2016, early November, so sure<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hillary Clinton would win the election<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The first female president!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was so excited!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was supposed to come and give a victory speech<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I waited, afloat with the young, naive hope that she would notice me from the stage<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Til it got late and my mom took me home<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was falling asleep on my feet<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I woke up the next morning and asked my mother<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMama, did she win?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201c… No honey, she didn\u2019t\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
8 years later, 15 years old, July 2024<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Biden drops out of the general race<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I thought \u2018Well, he has to endorse his running mate\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Kamala Harris was announced as the next candidate<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And minds of girls and women could dream once more<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The possibility of having a female president<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Early November came again<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I phone banked, campaigned, everything I can<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was calling votes counted on my friend\u2019s couch<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Swing states were leaning blue, then they weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wished that the country would sing with the voice<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t use, too young to have a choice<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stoked the bonfire of hope with a plea and a prayer<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was preparing how to celebrate!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I woke up, unaware of my fate<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I asked my Echo who won the election<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Rage, fear and grief replaced my hoping<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was supposed to be a joyous, historic day<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now over half the country might have their rights stripped away<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was supposed to inspire little girls to chase their dreams<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But why would they, seeing where it leads?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I sit at my desk, take out my pen<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mom asks what I\u2019m doing<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I say, \u201cMama, I\u2019m going to be president\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By Claire McCaslin<\/p>\n\n\n\n
January 2025
Claire McCaslin \u201827, a special contributor to <\/em>The Gazette, was inspired to write this poem after she attended the \u201cWomen in Politics\u201d workshop at the MLK Symposium.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"