Hillary Clinton steps to the podium, clad in white.
FINALLY FINALLY [lets out a long breath] EVERYTHING IS PROCEEDING AS I HAVE FORESEEN.
I MAPPED ALL OF THIS OUT, DOWN TO THE SECOND. GRANTED, WHEN I ENVISIONED THIS MOMENT, IT WAS IN 2008, BUT THIS IS STILL THE PANTSUIT I ENVISIONED WEARING.
My career in politics began when I was four. I went outside and got bullied about something I was wearing. That, at least, has not changed. I have worn everything from skirts to pantsuits. My hair has been tried at every conceivable length that hair can be worn, other than Lady Godiva and bald. Nothing has stopped the complaints. Maybe it's not me, after all. Maybe it's you.
I am not an inspiring orator. My idea of a cutting line is to say that "Donald Trump spoke for 70-odd minutes, and I do mean odd." Ha ha ha! My staff begged me to cut that, but it tickled me.
Too bad. I am what you have instead of the imaginary thing that would be perfect.
I am problematic. Fine. So are you. So is everyone. Except Bernie Sanders. Bernie (eye twitches) thank you, for everything. (Eye twitches more) You are perfect. (Leg begins spastically kicking) Your followers are the only ones who are truly post-sexist, and they see past appearances to the truth of things.
YES. CHANT. INTERRUPT ME. BY ALL MEANS. I'LL WAIT. I HAVE WAITED MY WHOLE LIFE. LORD KNOWS I CAN WAIT THIRTY MORE SECONDS WHILE YOU CHANT.
I rode here on the backs of a thousand essays entitled, CAN WOMEN HAVE IT ALL? I have had to hear the word "cankle" more times than a human being should have to hear any word. I've heard other words, too. And still, like the price of a pumpkin spice latte or the endowment of the Clinton foundation, I rise.
I know I'm not perfect. I am, I often hear, the slightly dented thing you get that you know does not come with every feature you dreamed of, instead of the new thing you wanted.
Have you ever noticed how whenever a woman becomes popular enough, it always turns out that there is something wrong with her? We love her we love her we love her and then -- boom -- we turn. Taylor Swift. Anne Hathaway. We slobber over them and adore them and then it turns out they are something other than what we thought, and then -- they curdle. Like milk. (My suit is also like milk.)
This definitely isn't sexism. Sexism would be if we just went up to women and said "You can't do that because you're a woman." We know not to do that any more. It's gauche. But that doesn't mean there's not ALWAYS SOMETHING SLIGHTLY THE MATTER with the way women do things. They talk at the wrong pitch. Or they use too many hedging words. Or too few hedging words. Or they apologize too much. Or if they don't apologize, the people around them get their backs up, like cats that have been incorrectly rubbed. Ha ha, women and their cats. Ha ha ha. Natural laugh. Talk less. Smile more. I used the wrong Hamilton quote in this speech.
This was always going to be awkward, America.
Can I use a sex metaphor? When it comes to virginity, either you lose it right away, or you wait until you're 38 and then it gets weird. The United State, when it comes to having a female president, has waited 200-plus years and it has gotten weird. Now you wonder: Are you settling?
Listen: It was never going to be any different. It was always going to end like this.
I know I'm too familiar. I'm the girl who did the whole lab project and organized the whole group presentation and then let Chad give the speech.
I never had a dream. A dream is just a distraction for your mind, when your mind could be pondering common-sense solutions to problems. I had a goal. A goal that I could someday stand here and deliver a competent speech. A speech that would be graded on the curve I have meticulously set for myself over my entire public life, by delivering all my speeches as though they were a painful duty and I had just swallowed several shards of glass. On that curve, I passed with flying colors.
I am not a blank slate onto which you can project your hopes and dreams. My suit is, but I am not. I am Hillary Rodham Clinton, with everything that entails. I have baggage. But I am running against a human poop emoji, so, you know, there's that.
I'm here. FINALLY.
I'm first. By G0D I will be first so no little girl has to go through being first again.
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