The Spartan: Why Gretchen Whitmer Has What It Takes for a White House Run

“He did this for one reason and one reason only, to throw you off your game.” That’s what I told Hillary Clinton backstage at Washington University in October 2016, moments away from her second presidential debate with Donald Trump. Two days prior, the world had learned, thanks to the Access Hollywood tape, that Trump liked to assert power by assaulting women. Trump retaliated by showing up at a pre-debate appearance with women who had accused Bill Clinton of sexual assault. “Yeah, I got that,” Clinton responded dryly to my pep talk. “The great news is that it didn’t work,” I insisted. She had been through worse and I thought she would be okay, but it was my job, as the campaign’s communications director, to make sure of it. She mustered a serene smile, folded her hands, and slowly shook her head. “Nope. Didn’t work.”

Gretchen Whitmer, too, has dealt with boorish men, like one on the floor of the Michigan Senate who leaned over her to say something “very inappropriate.” The man was older, but she was the minority leader and senior to him. “Keep in mind, I outrank this guy, he’s looming over me, and of course, I am the one who has to go through all the mental gymnastics about how I respond to his offensive comment,” she said in a lament familiar to all women. She stood, waiting to speak until she could look him in the eye, and said forcefully but with a smile, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t talk to me that way.”

Whitmer didn’t have the pressure of considering how millions of TV viewers—and voters—might judge her ability to withstand the pressure of being president on this interaction. (Clinton would later speculate that people might have liked to see some fire from her in responding to Trump pacing behind her on the debate stage, but in the moment what was most critical was for her to keep her cool.) For Whitmer, that encounter in the state Senate was seminal. She would not quietly tolerate misogynistic behavior as women before her had to do. Her lewd male colleague learned a lesson other foes—including Trump—would come to know: Whitmer doesn’t go looking for trouble, but if you come for her, she will punch you in the mouth.

It is a disservice to Whitmer that she is perhaps known more for outlandish things men have done to her—showing up at her home and office wielding guns, voting to strip her of her emergency powers to manage the pandemic, plotting to kidnap and assassinate her—than for her political acumen and what she has accomplished. But as a woman leader who came into the national spotlight during the Trump era, combating the torrent of misogynistic energy the 2016 campaign unleashed in the world has been a defining feature of Whitmer’s job. I see Whitmer battling the same forces Clinton faced but am encouraged. This time the men who tried to stop the woman are paying for their actions. Republican legislative leaders in Michigan who fought Whitmer lost control of the legislature. Many of the plotters are in jail. Even Trump—who tormented both Clinton and Whitmer—continues to face consequences as his legal troubles mount.

Whitmer recently commented that the country “is long overdue for a strong female chief executive”—begging the question of whether America will elect a woman front and center while asserting that a woman would do the job better than a man. And no, Whitmer is not planning a primary challenge to Joe Biden this time around. She will be busy raising money for Biden, however, along with 2024 House and Senate candidates, through her just-launched Fight Like Hell PAC.

I am not one of the people who buys into the self-actualizing bullshit that a woman can’t win the presidency. Clinton proved it’s possible. She got more votes. Having interviewed Whitmer for Showtime’s The Circus and based on my three decades in the political trenches, I could see she had the talent, drive, and toughness to be a solid national candidate. But earlier this year, I headed to Michigan to pressure-test that notion by observing how those qualities came to be and what all of it may say about Whitmer’s—or any woman’s—chances of being elected president.

Whitmer sets her alarm for 5:02 a.m. every morning. Not 5 a.m. 5:02 a.m. I made sure to arrive early at her residence in Lansing as I had met her enough times to know that if you show up on time, you will be late. Nevertheless, the governor was already striding down the hallway—ready to start her 10 a.m. childcare roundtable event at 9:50—and calling out “Hi, Jen!” as I came through the door.

The week I spent trailing her in Michigan was a blur of activity. On Tuesday, Whitmer signed a $150 million supplemental appropriations bill that the state legislature had passed with historic speed. The next day, she signed a bill to move up Michigan’s presidential primary. Thursday was a childcare event, followed by appearances before legislators considering new economic bills and a Galentine’s Day reception at her home. She rolled out a new policy in Detroit on Friday to benefit geographically and economically disadvantaged businesses, gave a speech to a group of more than 1,000 educators, and reached a deal with the legislature on a major new tax plan.

More recently, when three students were killed at a mass shooting at Whitmer’s beloved alma mater of Michigan State, she said the time for only thoughts and prayers was over and moved forward a gun safety package the legislature approved.

Whitmer describes herself as a progressive Democrat, but observing her up close, I see her core ideology as getting shit done. At the Galentine’s Day reception, she remarked that “if you want to get something done, give it to a busy woman.” Whitmer’s office has a lot of busy women—the four-person senior team is all female—and the operation seems to be in constant motion, yet calm and empowered. Their demeanor does not change in Whitmer’s presence, and they don’t shy away from telling her tough truths. It is a clarity too often lacking in political organizations; Whitmer’s team operates with a speed and confidence I rarely see. As a former aide who remains close to Whitmer put it to me, no matter what the issue is, the process for moving forward is always the same: “Find the partners, build the coalition, get the thing done.”

First elected to the Michigan House of Representatives in 2000, at age 29, Whitmer has never lost an election. She next served for nearly a decade in the Michigan Senate, becoming the state’s first female Senate minority leader. “Anyone who understands governing and politics respects her ability,” Jeff Timmer, a Michigan-based political strategist and erstwhile Republican who once produced television ads against Whitmer when she ran for the Michigan House, told me.

After Whitmer was term-limited out of the state Senate in 2014, she thought she was done with electoral politics. As she describes it, a number of powerful men abusing the public trust compelled her to get back into politics starting in 2015, when she finished the term of the Ingham County prosecutor in Lansing who had been forced out for—wait for it—being part of a sex-trafficking ring. It was there Whitmer signed a warrant for Larry Nassar, the US women’s gymnastics team doctor later convicted of sexually abusing hundreds of female athletes. Whitmer went into the 2016 election having decided to run for governor two years later. She thought Clinton would win Michigan and the White House. After Trump won both, she felt more urgency. “I filed for office on the first possible day and spent the next two years campaigning.” She won in 2018 by nearly 10 points.

It matters that Whitmer did not have the burden of being Michigan’s first female governor. That distinction goes to Jennifer Granholm, now secretary of energy under Biden, who was elected in 2002 and won re-election in 2006. There’s a singular alienation and judgment women first through the door encounter. (For the most current example, witness the constant headwinds Kamala Harris faces as the first woman and first person of color to be vice president.)