When Elizabeth Warren announced the end of her presidential campaign, I was sitting in my office. I got a text from a friend, saying, “NPR is reporting she dropped? Is it so? I haven’t gotten on Twitter. I don’t wanna.” I understood the sentiment. The last few days leading up to the primary election and the days afterward had been vitriolic on Twitter, to say the least. On a day that felt as raw as the last day of the last female presidential candidate’s campaign, neither of us wanted to bathe ourselves in hot takes or the righteous indignation of Bernie supporters. Her loss felt personal to us.
Political/personal
Political/personal
Political/personal
When Elizabeth Warren announced the end of her presidential campaign, I was sitting in my office. I got a text from a friend, saying, “NPR is reporting she dropped? Is it so? I haven’t gotten on Twitter. I don’t wanna.” I understood the sentiment. The last few days leading up to the primary election and the days afterward had been vitriolic on Twitter, to say the least. On a day that felt as raw as the last day of the last female presidential candidate’s campaign, neither of us wanted to bathe ourselves in hot takes or the righteous indignation of Bernie supporters. Her loss felt personal to us.