Why Hillary Clinton's Loss Is a Loss For All Women

This picture was taken in 1996. That's me in the red and white dress, ever patriotic. Moments before, the 11-year-old version of myself stood at the front of her elementary school graduation ceremony and told the entire room she wanted to become the first female president of the United States.

And despite the cheerful, supportive young ladies in this photo with me, it wouldn't be long before I faced a rude awakening to the fact that women don't always stand up for other women when they should.

We saw it on Tuesday, when apparently more white women voted for Donald Trump than for Hillary Clinton. The majority of those women chose a man who has made a career out of denigrating women, bragging about sexual assault, and abusing his celebrity to achieve those ends. And why? Because they didn't "like" Clinton? White women — who arguably had less at stake in this election than their Muslim, Mexican-American, disabled, black sisters — failed to show their respect and support for their fellow females by repudiating a man who has belittled and threatened them.

And nearly half of all Americans who voted overlooked a woman with three decades of proven experience to do the job and instead opted for a man on faith that he'd keep his word (which constantly changes) and be able to grow into the position.

As women, we've been there before. It's the story of our lives.

The first time I remember experiencing something like that I, too, was running for president . . . of the newly created freshmen student council, which I had fought very hard to bring to fruition in the first place.

I remember one moment from my "campaign" particularly vividly. I was 14. It was after a football game and several of us were out to eat, a sort of tradition. It was the middle of the election, and a boy shouted at me from across the table that my campaign slogan should be "Haney gives head." I laughed, maybe at the irony that I had barely even kissed a boy at that time, but mostly because I didn't know what else to do. And I mumbled something like, "Yeah, haha, good one. Haney gives head."

And the girl across the table from me said, "See, that right there is why I won't vote for you."

I was baffled. What had I done? Did she want me to shout down the boy at the end of the table? I should have. But I didn't. So I didn't say anything then, either. And somehow with my silence I became responsible for what that boy said, like I had agreed with it, encouraged it, or wanted it, even.

That girl didn't vote for me. And I lost. To a different boy who admitted he just wanted the job to bolster his college applications.

That same boy and I would go on to run against each other every year for president of student council. He would always win. I would always lose. Even though I was at the top of my class academically, on the speech and debate team, an officer in the honor societies and modern language club, an athlete, a team captain, and more.

And every year, he'd appoint me as a representative. To "help."

That's what Hillary Clinton offered to do Wednesday in her concession speech. She offered to help Donald Trump run this country, because many aren't sure if he can, and someone has to do it. Because she already knows how to do the job, and she knows the repercussions of sitting back and watching things unravel when the stakes are this high.

But here's the moral of this story: helpers only have so much power, and helpers is what we will remain, women, if we don't start going to bat for each other harder than ever before.

So let's start doing this. Let's let "I'm with her" really mean something, even now that the election is over. Let's stand with our sisters in battle, in the small fights every day, like when we see a man say something demeaning to a woman through an open window at a stop light, and in the biggest fights in the biggest board rooms, where women still don't get enough credit for the innovative ideas they bring to the table.

But while we're working on that, we also have to keep helping. Not for the benefit of the men, but because we're damn good at what we do, and we all need each other's talents, skills, and drive to lift each other up.