Ever feel like the people running for office live on a totally different planet? Like they’ve never actually had to choose between paying rent and buying groceries? Back in 1992, artist Zoe Leonard felt that exact same frustration, and she vented it onto a piece of onionskin paper using a typewriter. She wasn't trying to write a viral hit. She was just angry.
The result was Zoe Leonard I want a president, a prose poem that reads like a gut-punch of a manifesto. It starts with a line that still shocks people today: "I want a dyke for president." From there, it spirals into a list of demands for a leader who has actually suffered, someone who knows the "nasty hospital food" and has stood in line at the DMV or the welfare office.
It’s raw. It’s messy. It’s got typos. And honestly? It’s probably the most honest piece of political writing of the last thirty years.
Where did this thing even come from?
Context is everything here. It’s 1992. The AIDS crisis is absolutely ravaging New York City. The government’s response has been, frankly, pathetic. Zoe Leonard was right in the middle of it, working with activist groups like ACT UP and Fierce Pussy. Her friend, the poet Eileen Myles, had just announced a protest run for president as an "openly female" candidate.
Myles wasn't some billionaire with a PAC. They were a poet running against George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton. Leonard wrote the poem as a sort of tribute to that "why not us?" spirit.
It was supposed to be published in a queer magazine, but the magazine went bust before the issue could come out. So, what did they do? They did it 90s style. They photocopied the heck out of it. It became a pre-internet meme, passed from hand to hand, taped onto refrigerators, and stapled to telephone poles. It wasn't "content." It was a secret handshake for people who felt completely invisible to the folks in DC.
The High Line and the 2016 explosion
For a long time, the poem lived in the archives. Then 2016 happened. Suddenly, the "lesser of two evils" vibe was back in a big way. High Line Art decided to blow the poem up—literally. They installed a 20-by-30-foot version of Zoe Leonard I want a president on a pillar under The Standard Hotel in Manhattan.
Seeing those words—"I want a president who lost their last lover to aids"—towering over a luxury park in Chelsea was a trip. It turned the poem from a private lament into a massive public indictment. People were stopping in their tracks. It flooded Instagram.
But here’s the thing a lot of people miss: Leonard isn't just checking boxes of identities. She’s asking for experience. She wants someone who has been "gaybashed and deported." She wants someone who "has made mistakes and learned from them."
It’s a demand for empathy. We’re so used to "sanitized" politicians who have never had a hair out of place. Leonard is asking for the scars to be visible.
Why it still hits different
- The Materiality: The original was typed on onionskin paper. It’s fragile. When you see the reproductions, you see the strike-throughs and the uneven ink. It feels human, unlike the polished teleprompter speeches we get now.
- The Specificity: She talks about "bad teeth" and "no air-conditioning." These are the tiny, gritty details of being poor or marginalized that most political consultants would try to hide.
- The Anger: It doesn't ask politely. It demands. "I want to know why this isn't possible," she writes at the end.
Common Misconceptions
People sometimes think Leonard is literally saying we should only vote for people with these specific traumas. That’s a bit of a surface-level take. In later interviews, Leonard herself admitted she might not write it the same way today. She’s moved away from strict identity politics.
The poem is more of a "rhetorical X-ray." It’s designed to show us what’s missing from the stage. It's not a checklist; it's a mirror. It asks: Why do we only trust "the boss" and never "the worker"? Why is the president always a "john" and never a "hooker"?
How to use this perspective today
You don't have to be an artist to take something away from this. The next time an election cycle starts spinning its wheels, try looking past the "prepared remarks."
- Look for the "un-sanitized" moments. When a candidate messes up or shows a flicker of real, unscripted emotion—that’s where the truth usually lives.
- Audit your own "wants." Are you looking for a leader who looks like a president, or one who understands what it's like to lose something?
- Support grassroots voices. The poem exists because Eileen Myles ran a low-budget, high-heart campaign. Those voices are still out there, they just usually don't have the "air-conditioning" Leonard talked about.
Zoe Leonard I want a president isn't a relic of the 90s. It’s a recurring question. Every time we feel that gap between the people in power and the people on the street, this poem gets shared again. It’s a reminder that political power shouldn't just belong to those who can afford it—it should belong to those who have actually lived.
Next Steps for the curious: Check out the digital archives of the Whitney Museum of American Art or the High Line Art website to see high-resolution images of the original typewritten manuscript. Seeing the physical texture of the paper helps you understand the "underground" feel that made it so powerful in the first place. You can also look up the 2016 reading by Mykki Blanco; it brings a completely different, modern energy to the words that shows just how much they still resonate.
