What's a girl to do as the big dance approaches

It may seem frivolous to compare the upcoming US presidential election and election to a high school homecoming dance, but please bear with me. This dance metaphor speaks to an important point about electability: we look to a candidate to inspire us, to bring us closer to our goals and dreams. Barack Obama could do this, as did the late John Kennedy. Arguably, Bill Clinton too. We usually chalk it up to charisma but that concept isn't quite broad enough. We need inspiration married to possibility. Homecoming dances are all about that.

Exploring the slippery electability issue, one column I read recently suggested that given all the uncertainties this time, we are better off looking at how candidates make us feel, as opposed to parsing polls and platforms. And that's just what I plan to do in this blog, as I explore my hypothetical dilemma: finding a partner who can take us to the epitome of Homecoming: the election of a king and queen, the biggest prize of a school's biggest football event. Like election campaigns, it's so much spectacle, but much is at stake. My vote counts, and I want to have the perfect partner for the top spot in the Homecoming parade.

At first, as I looked for my perfect dance partner,  I thought I should go for the sensible choice--class president, Joe. We could get the most votes, I thought--surely the most important thing in a campaign even if he would not shake things up in this Homecoming world--a world that most of us agree has become dysfunctional. But then, nice a guy as he is, I just couldn't get excited about him. Maybe it was the frequency of slips, his forgetting my name. Sigh. His loyal supporters--let's call them his would-be court--told me to pay no mind. That's just Joe, they said. Don't forget how much support he has!  But then my eyes turned to the one who was about to capture my heart and mind--Elizabeth.

Perhaps she made me feel so good and proud because she's my better self: like me in age and background, but, unlike me,  one who really applied herself to become a champion debater, a Harvard professor and member of Congress. And now she was expressing a plan, one that would take Homecoming to a whole new level--one that kept the tradition while solving long-standing problems at our school. She didn't want to centralize Homecoming, as the campus radical proposes; she has a more developed and nuanced view. If elected, she would be the first woman to become Homecoming King. What a thrilling thought--how I'd be at her side on the big night.

But then....her campaign slipped. The plainspoken campus radical started surging in the polls. He was becoming so popular--even among the younger students.  (How is he still in school? I wondered privately.) Still, what a good, progressive school we could become if Bernie and I became a team--an enticing thought. Then too, he's such a good, consistently honorable man, a fighter for fairness. And together we could win! His court assured me of this, pointing to various polls. He's like Elizabeth--but stronger, they said. I was tempted, but then....I thought about Amy. Yes, why not Amy? She could also become the first woman to hold the top spot.

The polarization in our school had become intense. What we needed at the front of our Homecoming parade was a well-spoken, experienced person, one who has gotten things done during her years in school. One who was once overlooked, but was now being noticed. Yes, I thought, we could win! Her court says so and our school's top newspaper endorsed her, along with Elizabeth. I imagined going with Amy, visualizing her calm smile and assurance, calming my nervous excitement and the fears of fellow students put off by the campus radical.

My thoughts were interrupted by a student passing out Bloomberg flyers, talking about this candidate's accomplishments and large donations to many progressive causes over time. I paused, and then two African-American students walked by, raising their eyebrows. Suddenly I found myself humming a tune, "....You can't buy my love with money 'cause I never was that kind...." I walked on, deep in thought.

Thinking about my philosophy classes, I remembered Plato and his belief that democracy could not survive without a philosopher-king in charge of things. I began to consider whether I should choose the candidate best suited to this exalted state, the kind of person our school could really be proud of. An image of youthful, smiling Pete came to mind. While only a freshman, he had a shot at the top prize, that I could see.

Such a paragon--a veteran of conflict, an accomplished concert pianist who speaks 7 languages. A man who can listen, admit mistakes, who understands the incremental nature of change; a person about whom there is absolutely no whiff of scandal; a gay, married man who knows that love is love, regardless of gender. A communicator, a bright young man with a stake in the future. Lots of people had come around to appreciating his virtues recently. Surely he should be my partner, and in my mind, we waltzed together for several days. Inspired by him, all students would surely become better versions of themselves.

Still....as I fantasized through my choices, I kept coming back to how these hopefuls made me feel. They all sought my hand....I pictured all of them in turn and paid attention to what I was feeling. I also kept focusing on that intersection of inspiration and possibility--the blossoming of charisma. I looked at Elizabeth's and Bernie's platforms again.* I returned to my feelings. For awhile the images blurred, and then one became clear. Elizabeth held out her hand. My heart-mind said yes, and I knew: While I will applaud the winner of the final vote, I will dance with Elizabeth as long as I can.

I hope to tell her so on Sunday, Feb. 23. She will have a rally at The Fillmore Auditorium, Colfax and Clarkson, at 3 p.m. I plan to be there.

*For a discussion of the differences between Bernie's and Elizabeth's platforms, see this recent article in The Atlantic.