Nikki Haley and I don’t have a lot of common ground, belief-wise. I could skip invading Mexico. I’m not into her idea of raising the age for social security. I cringe at just about everything she’s ever said on social politics, from cowing to pressure to swear that America is not “a racist country” to offering that she thinks Florida’s Don’t Say Gay law doesn’t go far enough. (What do you want, Nikki—Don’t Think Gay?)
And yet, over the course of the last several weeks, I’ve been glued to Haley’s campaign. All day yesterday, I found myself scrolling obsessively through news out of New Hampshire, combing for indications that Haley might pull it out. When the returns were coming in, I was rapt, authentically sad when the race was called. Shhh! I went, to my kids, when Haley came onstage to speak. But I also didn’t tell them to listen. I didn’t want them latching on to her ideas.
That moment encapsulates my complex feelings around Nikki Haley. I can’t play off my rooting for her as purely strategic. I can’t chalk it up to the idea that we’d all be safer with Trump off the ballot. It goes deeper. I didn’t just want her to beat Trump, last night. I wanted her to win. I don’t want her to be president, but I want more people to want her to be president. Does that make sense? No, I know it doesn’t. I am now one of those voters on the street who, when they describe their convoluted voting thoughts on cable news, make you want to throw your sandwich at the TV.
But with Haley, I sometimes glimpse the feeling men have had for two hundred years: I relate to her. Not when she shows up somewhere and says that “God is so good,” as she did last night after the race was called in Trump’s favor. If I ever opened with that, my friends would think I had a concussion. But I feel her just-get-it-done attitude, appreciate that she’s a mom, can feel in my jaw the way she held her face patiently, last night, as her own supporters interrupted her. I admired the way she made her concession sound like a victory speech. I loved when she said, in a brilliantly precise chord of bless his heart, “I wanna congratulate Donald Trump on his victory tonight… He earned that.” Her tone was the same one I use when I tell my kids they made these cupcakes, they worked so hard! Haley’s vibe on that stage was one I think most women recognize: This is fine, I’ll do this speech, but my mind is moving to to-dos for tomorrow, and the rest of 2024, and my five-year plan. In my heart, I believe she went to bed last night determined to look up some self-care serums, but ended up deciding the 2 a.m. hour was better spent returning emails.