My original plan, during the debate, was to write about the moments I might actually remember in a week, like Bernie Sanders saying he’s sick of hearing about Hillary Clinton’s damn emails or Lincoln Chafee offering what must be the most pathetic excuse for a Senate vote in U.S. political history. (Sanders’ belly flop on gun control and Clinton’s struggles on Wall Street regulation were on the short list, too.) Instead, though, I want to mention two moments when Hillary Clinton referenced her gender in a way that shaped the course of the debate — both of which struck me as a bit off, and potentially problematic for the Democratic frontrunner moving forward.
The first — like the second, actually — came toward the end of the debate, when the candidates were asked how they’d be different than a third term of Barack Obama. Clinton said something like, “Well, I think it’s pretty obvious how I’d be different than Barack Obama!” In other words: she’d be a female president — the first, in fact — and that’s such a big difference, it’s the only difference she even needs to mention. Clinton then offered a few thin examples of potential policy divergences that seemed to be chosen almost at random; ultimately, she got out of the exchange without having to seriously discuss how she’d be similar to Obama and how she wouldn’t. When I tweeted, “Not a big fan of Clinton using her gender as a shield there,” it got a bigger response than anything else I said all night — and for what it’s worth, no real pushback at all.
Gender came up again a few minutes later. When the candidates were grilled on whether they were political “insiders” or “outsiders,” Clinton again pointed out that she’s a woman—implying, basically, that as a woman, she couldn’t be an insider. So I tweeted: “Does Clinton seriously think her gender makes her an outsider? Remarkable.” The response was not positive. My Twitter critics said I was: “mansplaining”; underrating the importance of gender; failing to grasp that electing the first woman president would be a big deal; and “building [my] igloo on thin ice.”
I am, of course, male. I’m also the father of two daughters, and I confess that the prospect of them witnessing the election of the first woman president — and internalizing all the positive lessons that could teach — is something I can’t help but find compelling. That said, it seems preposterous to me that a former first lady, senator, and secretary of state could use her gender alone to establish her political-outsider bona fides, with no qualifications, or meaningful acknowledgment of the very insider-y existence she’s led for the past couple decades. The ensuing Twitter back-and-forth tells me that plenty of women share my misgivings — but also that a large number don’t, and find the very question I posed to be offensive.
Think back for a moment to the 2008 presidential campaign. I may be wrong, but my recollection is that Barack Obama made very few explicit references to the fact that he could become the first African-American president. Last night, in contrast, Clinton referenced the potentially groundbreaking nature of her candidacy at least twice. Clearly, some of her supporters nodded their heads in agreement. But others — including women and men —saw a bit of rhetorical craftiness that wasn’t entirely convincing.
If this occurs throughout the campaign, die-hard Clinton fans probably won’t mind it; if anything, it might increase their intensity. The Clinton haters won’t change their minds, either. It’s everyone else — the vast mass of swayable, undecided voters— whose reactions will really matter. If I were a Clinton operative, I’d be poring, in the coming days, over the way debate-watching focus groups responded to the two moments mentioned here. And I’d be ready to ask the candidate herself whether her handling of what should be an unfettered good — the prospect of breaking the ultimate glass ceiling, once and for all — might be turning it into something more complicated.
