Lately there have been a lot of people pissed of at Bill Clinton for one reason or another. Some think they have good reason. Some think attacking Bill Clinton is good politics. I have a hard time believing that most people really believe what they are saying. Not deep down. At least I hope not.
But people have different experiences than I have had…and many are much younger than me…and hardly anyone else here lived in Arkansas when I did…and most of those probably didn’t meet Bill and/or Hillary as many times as I did…and I’m completely certain that none of the people who did those other things began gender reassignment during the Clinton campaign in 1992.
My vision of the era is tinted by the fact that I came out to the world, beginning my transition in September of 1992, precisely because I persuaded myself that Bill Clinton was going to win the election, that Bill and Hillary were going to be in the White House and I could do so with a lessened fear of being fired from my job, thrown out of my house and/or murdered.
Of course, I lived in Arkansas so I had a different viewpoint than a lot of folks…people who were not standing in the freezing rain at the Capitol Building in Little Rock singing along to “Yesterday’s Gone” and crying in joy about newfound freedom to be oneself. I made one of my first public appearances as the new me as one of the crowd on election night.
Bill Clinton was the Barack Obama/John Edwards of that instant in time. He was hope for a better future. He was…and is…a hero to many people.