I'm just bitching.

There are days when I get in the car and put in a certain CD and turn up a certain song. The days I’m talking about are bad ones, days where you get frustrated at every turn, or irritated (reasonably or not) by other people’s behavior, or simply worn down by the evidence of human selfishness in yourself and everyone else. Although, on these particular days, it’s usually that evidence in other people which is the main problem.

At the end of those sorts of days, I often get in the car, breathe out deeply, and put in the only hit Meredith Brooks will ever need, in my opinion. And I sing out loud, as loud as I can, with absolutely no regard for what people might think of me during the evening commute. “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother, I’m a sinner, I’m a saint…” That’s right, people. Simul clergy et bitch is the new Lutheran.

I voted for Barack Obama in the caucus. But I walked into that room undecided, and when I cast my vote, I still wasn’t entirely sure. I am an unashamed feminist, and I wanted to vote for Hillary for that reason alone. But even by our caucus date, it was clear that John McCain was the Republican nominee, and frankly, I want a Democrat in the White House so badly that my main concern is which of these two candidates stands a better chance against him. I believe that Hillary Clinton is exceptionally intelligent and qualified. I also believe that, through a few circumstances over which she had control and many more in which she didn’t, a lot of people hate her. I worry that a bunch of people stuck somewhere in the middle will vote for McCain because they just can’t bring themselves to vote for Hillary Clinton. This makes me sad, and angry, but also resigned to reality. I want everything related to George W. out of the White House. I will vote for Obama if he’s more likely to get that done.

My father-in-law, whom I love very much, is a prime example of the “she’s just a bitch” factor. He can’t stand her. And I believe, after several conversations with him about this, that he has no logical reason for his dislike other than the fact that he never liked her husband. As much as I’d like to shout, “Who the fuck cares?” when the conversation takes that drift, I don’t. (See how I say I’m okay with being a bitch, but even I don’t want to go that far.) He just hates Hillary. I just hate that he hates her for no reason. And by no means do I believe that he’s the only one.

Should John McCain have told the guy at his campaign rally that the question he asked, “How are we going to beat the bitch?” was inappropriate? Hell, yes. Can you imagine if the same man had asked, “How are we going to beat the nigger?” Such a question would rightfully make the front page as a prime example of both blatent and latent racism still present in the U.S. But throw “bitch” around like candy, and no one cares. I’m not about to equate sexism with racism completely. I know that as a white woman in this country, I have a lot of privileges that black men don’t have, and that black women especially don’t have. But that doesn’t mean that sexism isn’t still real, and I think we’re watching it in action when it comes to Clinton.

I remember in seminary how many students, male and female, were perfectly comfortable calling female professors by their first names, when they always referred to male professors as “Dr. So-and-so.” Everybody says that we call Hillary by her first name to distinguish her from her husband. But it sure fits nicely into that same tendency.

A friend of mine who grew up in Texas told me that one of her African-American friends who moved up north said once, “you know, there’s just as much racism up here, but it’s a lot harder to recognize because people act like it doesn’t exist. At least in the south, when you’re black, you know where you stand. Nobody bothers to hide racism there.” It’s that kind of sexism I see around Hillary (oops, I did it again) – the kind that self-righteously proclaims, “I’m not sexist! I’d vote for a woman! I just can’t vote for her.” Who would you vote for, then? Very few people can name another woman as qualified.

In this week’s Newsweek, there are a bunch of essays from women about why they will or won’t vote for Hillary Clinton. One of them relates this conversation between Tina Fey and Amy Poehler from a recent Saturday Night Live:

Fey: Maybe what bothers me the most is that people say that Hillary is a bitch. Let me say something about that: yeah, she is. So am I, and so is this one. (Points to Amy Poehler.)
Poehler: Yeah. Deal with it.
Fey: You know what? Bitches get stuff done. That’s why Catholic schools use nuns as teachers and not priests. Those nuns are mean old clams and they sleep on cots and they’re allowed to hit you. And at the end of the school year you hated those bitches but you knew the capital of Vermont. So, I’m saying it’s not too late, Texas and Ohio; bitch is the new black!

Bitches get stuff done. They’re opinionated, and forthright, and they tell you what they think. They can be smart, quick, funny, and edgy. They are imperfect, demanding, and yes – irritating at times. But they get stuff done. You’re going to learn the capital of Vermont, damn it, because that’s what you need to know.

Why is it that people call Senator Clinton a bitch? She’s not perfect. She can be irritating. But since when did campaigning for president become a personality contest? Why is it that Hillary’s tears (or lack thereof) make news? Why does she have to prove her femininity and then, when she does, get hit in the face with accusations that she’s not man enough for the job? Why is it that, all these years after Gloria Steinhem and burning bras, all the way back to suffragettes and voting rights – why are we still rehashing these old arguments about what makes a woman – and what makes a bitch?

In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll vote for the Democratic nominee, no matter who it is. I still think Obama stands a better chance of winning the ultimate prize, though I don’t doubt that Clinton is every bit as qualified. But as a woman in a mostly male-dominated profession, whether I vote for her or not, I feel a connection to Clinton. I know what it feels like – admittedly with less media coverage – to wonder whether your actions are going to be read as strong or bitchy; whether people will wonder if it’s just PMS; to watch your male colleague in action and know that, if you said those things, at least someone in the room would mutter the b-word under their breath as they left the room. It doesn't take too long to get there when nearly every adjective in front of your name is supposed to make you nice: woman, Christian, pastor.

I don’t know how to solve the problem, other than to keep demonstrating in small, daily ways that being a strong leader + woman does not = bitch. But I’ve been writing too long anyway. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go get stuff done.