I Want A ___ For President

Christina’s World, Andrew Wyeth, 1948, tempera on panel - credit to the Museum of Modern Art

In 1992, Zoe Leonard wrote “I want a president” in response to fellow poet Eileen Myles’ bid for the presidency, alongside George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton. She was involved with activism during the AIDS crisis, and was part of the lesbian coalition which fought for gay men with AIDS. The original poem is as follows:

I want a dyke for president. I want a person with aids for president and I want a fag for vice president and I want someone with no health insurance and I want someone who grew up in a place where the earth is so saturated with toxic waste that they didn’t have a choice about getting leukemia. I want a president that had an abortion at sixteen and I want a candidate who isn’t the lesser of two evils and I want a president who lost their last lover to aids, who still sees that in their eyes every time they lay down torest who has held their lover in their arms and knew they were dying. I want a president with no airconditioning, a president who has stood on line at the clinic, at the dmv, at the welfare office and has been unemployed and layed off and sexually harassed and gaybashed and deported. I want someone who has spent the night in the tombs and had a cross burned on their lawn and survived rape. I want someone who has been in love and been hurt, who respects sex, who has made mistakes and learned from them. I want a Black woman for president. I want someone with bad teeth and an attitude, someone who has eaten that nasty hospital food, someone who crossdresses and has done drugs and been in therapy. I want someone who has committed civil disobedience. And I want to know why this isn’t possible. I want to know why we started learning somewhere down the line that a president is always a clown: always a john and never a hooker. Always a boss and never a worker, always an liar, always a thief, and never caught. 

This is my update for 2024, with some omissions: 

I want a mortal for president. I want a person with skin and bones and blood and I want another for vice president and I want someone with no hubris or god complex and I want someone who grew up in a place where the earth and the sun and the sea and the wind is all that is free and good and divine and not just a planet that gave you life. I want a president that does not believe in God but does believe in God and I want a candidate who has passed constitutional law with a 90 or above and I want a president who has bled and seen blood from where it should never be seen, who still sees the glory of the world and its beauty every time they see humanity’s worst, who has held their life in the balance and kept it and knew that they should live. I want a president with no ideas but all the ideas, a president who has pissed and shit and cried and bled and sweat and melted and been human. I want someone who has spent their last breath and had it thrown back as the abyss screamed back “you’re not done yet!” I want someone who has been broken and beaten, who respects work, who has looked injustice in the eye and not been able to do anything about it. I want a fighter for president. I want someone with scars and stories and joint pain, someone who has woken up and been blinded by pain, someone who has hurt and been hurt and has agonized through it and been strong. I want someone who has lived a life like any other. And I want to know why this isn’t possible. I want to know why we started learning somewhere down the line that a president is otherworldly: always a god and never a man. Always a saint and never a sinner, always an other, always a figurehead, and never a person.