Glass Shards and Bandages

I learned at a young age that ‘hope’ would get me nowhere unless it was backed by hard work. Yet, I still had faith that I would wake up Wednesday morning surrounded by the glass shards, complete with the dried blood, sweat, and tears of the women and people of color before me. Instead, I feel like I’ve been thrown out the window instead of breaking through the glass ceiling. In first grade, I told my teacher I was going to become the first female president. I went home crying, crushed after being informed that Hillary Rodham Clinton would beat …

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