Contrary to all the jerks out there who want to categorize my alma mater as a lesbian school or a rich white girls’ school (it’s one of the most diverse colleges in this entire country) or a “bougie” school, Wellesley College’s reputation stands on its own. I wouldn’t have gone 3,000 miles away for college if I wasn’t going to a school that was reputed for its world-class education and having a diversity of women representing the entire globe, not to mention coming from all walks of life. Although I have a love-hate relationship with my time there, I have found that when I run into Wellesley alums after graduation that the reception has always been warm and comforting.
Yesterday, I was on the train going home from the gym, wearing my Wellesley sweatshirt, when someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was a Korean woman with a smiling face. “Hi. Did you by any chance go to Wellesley?”
She was a Class of ’07 student, and she had spent the election night at Wellesley for the election results party. Women from all over the country and even some parts of the world drove, trained, bused, and flew to Wellesley to witness what we were hoping would be a historic night not just for the Wellesley community, but also for women all over the world. Over 3,000 women came back to their beloved alma mater that night in great anticipation of Hillary’s win. And they were crushed when, as the night progressed, they slowly and painfully realized she wasn’t going to win. Our accomplished and ambitious Hillary would lose to the biggest anti-woman person in America. Candice told me it was powerful and painful, but she wouldn’t have missed it for the world — to be around so many proud Wellesley alums during that historic night.
“I think we’re all in pain and will be for a long time, but we’ll get through this,” Candice said to me, reassuringly after I told her how I was so upset and still not over this yet.
All I could envision in my mind was a crowded Wellesley Field House, packed with throngs of sobbing women everywhere, with balloons and confetti that were meant for a celebration but instead would be used for a very gaudy funeral. It would be like the bad dream that would just never end for me. All of our hopes and dreams were shattered in just one night, and instead of just being shattered, they were stomped and shat on by a scary and stupid man who wanted to obliterate anyone who didn’t look like him — or resemble a European model.