Capítulo 4
When You're In The Room, You Have a Responsibility to Speak
I have been privileged to gain entry to some of the world's most powerful rooms-the Oval Office, the prime minister's study at Chequers, Number 10 Downing Street, the German chancellor's office, the Blue House in Seoul, the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, even the Kremlin. I am indebted to the generation of women who fought to secure my place in those rooms, and I speak up on their behalf and for women who have yet to gain access, because I don't want this privilege to go to waste.
On your path to the Oval Office, you'll need to know you belong there. In the Clinton White House, I felt privileged to be "in the room," but in Obama's White House I learned it wasn't just privilege but responsibility to speak up. President Obama would specifically ask for opinions from those who hadn't spoken-often women-not to be nice, but because he genuinely wanted to know what they thought. "You are in the room. Speak up," he once told a female colleague. "There is no other room."
I overcame self-doubt by accepting that while others might be better qualified for my role, I was the one in the room now, and I owed it to all women who fought for my right to be there to make the most of it. When you reach the Oval Office, surround yourself with voices that represent the entire country, and ensure each one speaks up. They're there for a reason, and their voices are essential.
The email controversy during the campaign was a box we could never escape. The goalposts kept moving-first establishing it was legal, then explaining why she did it, then admitting it was a mistake. When a reporter asked if she owed the American people an apology, I realized: They don't want an apology. They want a confession to a crime she didn't commit.
TSAHIJDL: "There's something about her I just don't like." The same thing people said 25 years ago, before any controversy. Flying back from Florida after the Comey letter, I joked with Hillary about our four opponents: Trump, Putin, Assange, and Comey. It's no coincidence the first woman nominee faced unprecedented opposition from four men with personal vendettas.
By October, the campaign felt like a Batman movie-both candidates from Gotham, Trump as lead villain with Putin and Assange as sidekicks, Comey as the ambiguous Catwoman character, Obama as Commissioner Gordon, with the fate of the world at stake. I feared violence before the election, half-joking to Hillary that we were "upsetting the cosmic natural balance by seeking to upend the patriarchy."
Capítulo 5
It's Your World and You Can Cry If You Want To
On election night, when I told Huma Abedin that Trump would likely win, she just nodded-the same stoic nod we'd given throughout the campaign to absorb bad news. Never blanching, never showing emotion. "I can handle this. I can handle anything."
This nodding is how women have adapted to succeed in a man's world-a toxic brew of proving toughness while maintaining a woman's sense of duty. We feel compelled to be superwomen, fulfilling traditional expectations while adding our aspirations on the side. Men built the professional world with rules comfortable for them, and women have tried to follow these local customs-being obliging, calm, diligent, and emotionally controlled.
But it's not a man's world anymore. It's our world now, and we should change how the game is played. What if I hadn't just nodded during the campaign but actually objected? We'll never know what beneficial qualities we're stifling by following outdated behavioral rules.
The Harvard postmortem is where defeated campaigns are expected to be gracious losers-particularly the female staff. I had reluctantly attended, not wanting to be gracious to this particular team given how they had beaten us. During the forum, the Trump team gloated and taunted us. When asked about Steve Bannon joining the Trump campaign, I couldn't hold back. All my prepared thoughts came flying out through misty eyes with a shaking voice. The press called it a "shouting match" where I "choked up"-three strikes against me: no grace, accusations of racism, and tears.
But I don't regret it. I spoke truth about something I cared about. In the Clinton White House, my office was known as "the crying room" where staff could release stress through tears. Both men and women used it without stigma. A woman can be both strong and emotional-I cry when moved or frustrated, and I'm great in a crisis. Let us see your tears sometimes. It will help normalize the practice for women everywhere.
Capítulo 6
Leading Through Crisis Requires Both Head and Heart
In my career, I've weathered countless political storms-from Whitewater and Clinton's impeachment to the HealthCare.gov crash and Russian election interference. These crises can destabilize a White House without proper leadership. The key is balancing a cool head with a warm heart.
During the HealthCare.gov website failure in October 2013, I felt enormous pressure as White House communications director to fix the devastating press coverage. Despite our efforts to highlight success stories, nothing worked. After one meeting, President Obama pulled me aside to acknowledge that "the press isn't going to get better until the site actually works." His understanding relieved my stress and helped me develop a realistic management plan.
When the Trayvon Martin verdict sparked outrage in 2013, Obama recognized he needed to speak for the African American community. He shared personal experiences of racism-how he could have been Trayvon, how white women crossed streets to avoid him, how security guards followed him in stores. Sitting in the Oval Office with the Emancipation Proclamation and MLK bust behind him, I knew I was witnessing history.
Hillary demonstrated remarkable composure during the FBI email investigation reopening just before the 2016 election. When we broke the news to her on the plane, she simply nodded with a slight smile: "Yes, I knew we weren't done." Beyond her public poise, she showed tremendous heart in private, comforting a devastated Huma Abedin and keeping our team focused without complaint. Looking back, we should have listened more to what Hillary's heart was telling her during this time.
Hillary's instincts were right about addressing the email controversy. While the campaign team wanted to move on after briefly addressing it, Hillary sensed voters needed to hear her perspective. We insisted on focusing on "issues people care about" instead, but the email story dominated news coverage anyway. Our attempts to change the subject were perceived as avoidance. Trust both your head and heart during crises-they'll help steer the ship to safety.
Capítulo 7
Let Your Battle Scars Show What We Can Survive
Presidents visibly age in office-it's practically a national pastime to observe how the job transforms their appearance. While this will pose a special challenge for you as our first female president (the "pink tax" of extra time for hair and makeup won't disappear), I hope you'll let your battle scars show. They'll demonstrate what you've endured and what we can survive.
I've always embraced my own facial lines. The wrinkles between my eyebrows from the Clinton White House years tell a story of wisdom gained through stress. When I discovered these "elevens" could be removed, I refused-they're badges of experience I want the world to see.
My fiftieth birthday, one week after the 2016 election, was spent in my sister Dana's hospice room in Dallas. Despite her Alzheimer's, Dana still recognized me and even managed to say "thank you" when I told her I was staying an extra day. I played music we'd loved throughout our lives-America, Boz Scaggs, Dan Fogelberg, and finally Sara Bareilles's "Brave," which had become Dana's anthem. Though communication was difficult, I could still see her essence: "I see you in there," I'd tell her, and she'd nod back. These were the most meaningful moments we ever shared.
Older women's faces comfort me-they connect us to times most can't remember. Their lines reveal what they've lived through. I hope my weathered face provides similar comfort to my niece and nephews. Our presidents' faces should likewise show not just the burden of office but their love and concern for our country. Your battle scars will tell us you've been looking out for us-that our dreams and challenges mean something to you.
Capítulo 8
Don't Search for Your Role in His Story-Write Your Own
The future is female. The past was, too-it's just that no one thought it important enough to record. Women have always been vital to America's history, yet we're barely mentioned in history books. From the Revolutionary War's Molly Pitcher to the code-breaking women of World War II, countless female contributions have been minimized or erased. Our founding documents were all written by white men, while figures like Abigail Adams, who famously urged her husband to "remember the ladies," were sidelined. Imagine how different our country would be if women had equal input in crafting the Constitution or Bill of Rights.
Hillary Clinton didn't believe her life story was interesting enough to captivate voters. Unlike Marco Rubio launching his campaign at Miami's Freedom Tower to tell his family's compelling refugee story, or Ted Cruz emphasizing his father's escape from Cuba, Hillary would make history herself as the first woman president. But Americans easily connected with Bill Clinton's narrative (born in Hope, Arkansas, lost his father before birth, pulled himself up from poverty) and Barack Obama's story (representing hope and unity as our first Black president, raised by a single mother). Both fit recognizable American dream templates that voters had seen before.
Hillary's story didn't fit the traditional narrative. She grew up middle-class in Park Ridge, Illinois, without the remarkable struggles Americans typically identified with. She was a Goldwater Girl turned progressive, a Yale Law graduate who chose public service over corporate law, and a First Lady who refused to simply serve tea. There wasn't anything in our history to compare to Hillary-that's what happens when you're making history. We often don't appreciate groundbreaking moments in real time because they don't match our existing templates.
Throughout the campaign, Hillary received endless contradictory advice about her speaking style-project strength but don't be shrill, show passion without shouting, appear strong yet vulnerable, be "authentic" but also presidential. As Hillary noted, no one could name a single woman leader on the world stage who "does it exactly right." Angela Merkel was too stoic, Theresa May too rigid, Julia Gillard too aggressive. Women seeking power can't win playing by man-centric rules that were never designed for them in the first place.
After the election, Hillary wrote "What Happened" despite critics saying she should stay quiet and fade away. Eventually her story was heard on her own terms, not filtered through political consultants or media narratives. Her struggles with double standards, implicit bias, and breaking the ultimate glass ceiling are now part of America's history-part of our collective story. And when future women run for president, whether it's Elizabeth Warren, Kamala Harris, or someone we haven't met yet, their stories will be something we recognize because Hillary Clinton helped write that chapter first.
Capítulo 9
Even When You Lose, Refuse to Be Defeated
During a tense debate prep session in September 2016, I reminded Hillary of her remarkable resilience. After twenty-five years of attacks-emails, eleven-hour Benghazi testimony, FBI investigations, WikiLeaks, a grueling primary-she was still standing. "Madam Secretary, do not see all these attacks and get discouraged. Look at them and marvel at how frustrated these Republicans are that they can't take you down. Think about what a miracle it is that you are still standing."
Whether you're defeated is your choice. Defeat means cowering when attacked, giving up the fight, losing hope. Hillary never cowered, never stopped fighting for issues she cared about. She lost the election but refused to be defeated.
Hillary's approach to tough times is simple yet powerful: get up every day, focus on what needs doing, do your best, then get up the next day and do it again.
Elizabeth Edwards exemplified this spirit. My close friend and wife of John Edwards, she lived with "enormous ambition on a small scale," creating magic in the lives of family and friends. After losing her sixteen-year-old son Wade in a car accident, Elizabeth described her mind as a chalkboard wiped completely clean. She deliberately chose what to put back on it-having two more children who brought her joy.
Elizabeth later endured cancer and public infidelity. She "stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her away, she adjusted her sails." She howled into the wind too-feeling pain is part of standing in the storm. What matters is what you choose after the storm passes.
In December 2010, Elizabeth called to tell me she'd stopped cancer treatments and would die soon. Despite this devastating news, she shared happy updates about her daughter Cate's engagement. I visited her one last time, finding her at peace with death, knowing she would see Wade again. Before I left, she asked me to share a final message with her admirers. The next day, she posted: "I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious."
Capítulo 10
We Are Bound Together, Now We Need to Unite
This story ends where it started, election night 2016-a national reckoning long in the making. It's a cautionary tale about Americans being bound together even when not united.
The upheaval America experienced-9/11, two wars, the Great Recession, demographic shifts, inequality, technological revolution, climate change-created the perfect conditions for our current reckoning. I've accepted that the days of predicting politics are over, and that's how it should be. A small number of Washington insiders shouldn't control our democracy. That paradigm needed to topple.
I shake my head when political friends talk about returning to "normal" or controlling national messaging. That world has already blown up. The rebirth must come from the ground up. Visiting states across America during the campaign, I saw upheaval everywhere, but I remain hopeful because I see a unifying thread: all frustrated Americans believe our country could be better, that America wasn't living up to her values.
Though ideologically divided, everyone expected better of this country-common ground upon which to build. Our pain can't stay isolated; eventually we all feel it because we're connected. The charge now is to move from understanding we're bound together to choosing unity. To ensure this alienation doesn't take hold again, you must be a president for all Americans, listening to everyone's concerns. Sounds like a good job for a woman.
Women aren't just running for office in record numbers now-they're winning. In politics, business and art, women are creating their own game. Having survived that unprecedented scene where the world exploded after all, we can write our own happy ending. From now on, we decide what's possible. This movie ends with women running the world.
