BLUE WOMAN IN A RED STATE

Idaho was really a footnote to Super Tuesday. The Democrats were caucusing, but in the reddest state. We made the crawl on the television coverage, but never the patter and certainly never the "critical to success" discussion.

Yet Idaho Democrats came to caucuses in droves, led by Idaho youth and spurred by an incredibly organized Obama campaign. It was big, noisy, constantly changing and a messy challenge to manage. But oh, it was inspiring.

And yet. On a personal level it was one of the toughest political decisions I have ever made.

I like Hillary. I like Barack. Without belaboring policy details, in my opinion either candidate would make a fine president.

At first blush, Hillary seems to be ready made for a boomer, feminist woman. And I deeply, personally would like to vote for a woman president before I die. It may seem a limited dream, but something in that vote would validate all the hard work, tough times and supreme effort put in by those of us who fought for and continue to fight for equality.

Any woman, of any political persuasion, my age or older who denies the passion for that opportunity is lying to you (or to herself).

And yet. I caucused for Obama. Yes, I like him too. Yes, he seems a little more right on my issues. Yes, he has captured the Kennedy Camelot youthful enthusiam; maybe surpassed it. Yes, I believe he will make a great president. Yes, that is also a history making vote.

But too long in politics, the final balance was swayed by one simple factor; his electability. We simply must have regime change. Maybe I'm asking too much. But I don't just want to vote for the first woman presidential candidate. I want to vote for the first woman president.

Women's Voices

One of the best parts of having a wonderful, adult daughter is how much she teaches me each time we are together. Last Friday she reinforced my appreciation of her strength and skill in meeting life as a woman. And in doing so gave me the opportunity to see and marvel first hand at the evolution of the women's movement.

As a young adult I spent time, talent and a bit of temper trying to help craft laws, open minds and win hearts to equality for women; in the family, in the workplace and in the world. I am, justifiably I hope, proud of those efforts. Predictably, the passage of years brought changes to the movement and the larger community.

Sometimes, as the next generations of women made their way, it was easy to lose sight of progress. Easy to question if anyone remembered the fight from which they were now benefiting. Even sometimes easy to lose sight of the fact that what we really fought for was choices - legitimate choices.

Then my daughter took me to a MOPS (Mothers of PreSchoolers) meeting. At first blush it was a breakfast, inspirational or informational guest speaker, sharing, support and problem solving group for mothers of preschool children. Most were not employed outside the home. It seemed a context in which I was unlikely to be considering the impact of votes for women, equal pay for equal work, Title IX and the equal rights amendment.

Yet as I sat watching my heart became so full with pride I felt it would burst. What wonderful, complex, talented women. I was indeed watching the success of the women's movement. These women ran their own show. Direct, self-confident, standing up, organizing and leading they embodied the fruition of every long debate about the place of women in the world. The context in which they moved mountains and created community was theirs to choose. But that choice or any other ultimately pales next to their ability to mold life with a freedom imagined and denied to many previous generations.

Is it perfect? Of course not. Are there still battles to be fought, resistence to master? Of course. Does the fight look like it did when I was young? No, it is not even the same fight everywhere or for all women. But from MOPS to MomsRising, the women are present, they are engaged, their voices are raised and they are strong.

What more could an aging feminist ask?