Today, I mourn. I mourn for myself, for my beautiful
daughter, for my country, and for the amazing woman, my role model, Hillary
Rodham Clinton.

I fear the path my country chose is dangerous. Not just
wrong. Dangerous. It is true that I disagreed with McCain and Romney, but I
never once doubted both had the mental fortitude and moral compass required to
govern a nation comprised of many. I do not believe that Donald Trump has
either of those things. More importantly, I have seen how the words and actions
of this man have brought despicable people into the light. People who would
like to see my LGBTQ friends stripped of their rights. People who would like to
see my African American friends stopped and frisked on the streets. People who
would someday like to rank my daughter – a child so full of joy, mischief, and
possibility – on a scale of 1 to 10 for her physical beauty alone.

Now hear me – I do not believe that ALL Trump supporters want to see those
things. If I believed for a second that roughly 59 million people desired those
things, I’d be on the first flight out of here. Still – those people exist and
now – thanks in part to Trump’s disdain for mutual respect and his penchant for
bullying, those people think that THEY are the majority. They think that THEY
will govern from here on out. So for that, I mourn today.

But tomorrow I get to work. I don’t want to. I want to curl
up and cry. My heart is so broken that I want to give up. But I have a daughter
that deserves a whole hell of a lot more from me… and from you too.

I wanted Hillary to personally break that glass ceiling.
Desperately. I cannot think of any woman I would have rather done it. I admire
her greatly for more reasons than I can list here. But today, as she gave a thoughtful
and eloquent concession speech, I realized that her legacy is much bigger than
a presidency or lack thereof. Hillary Clinton will be the match that lights a
new movement on fire.

I was passionate about Obama. I was passionate about
Hillary. But starting tomorrow, I am passionate period. Not about a singular candidate,
race, or cause – but about them all.  Not
every four years or when I watch Last Week Tonight. I can no longer just wake
up, go to work, come home, focus on my own tiny family, and hope the rest of
the world sorts this all out in four years. My daughter deserves better and
Hillary’s legacy demands better. I will help sort this out.

Tomorrow, I get involved. I start volunteering my time. I
start participating in my local government. I sign up for monthly donations –
even if I can only manage a few dollars here or there – to places that will be
under attack such as Planned Parenthood and to places that will lead the good
fight like the ACLU. 

I want to see a woman President in my lifetime. No, I demand
it. 

It will not be Hillary and that hurts deeply. But it will be
because of her. And maybe, in some small part, it will be because of me now
too. 

Thank you Hillary. You have fought harder, longer, and with
more dignity and courage than anyone. I have been honored to be with you. Now,
I hope I can honor you by following the amazing example you have set. 

Tomorrow I will dry my tears and steady my fears. Her legacy
will not end here. It is just getting started.