We talked to Whitmer about her new book and asked about tattoos, Gen X and 2028 | Opinion

If the Midwest were a person, it might be Gretchen Whitmer.  

“True Gretch,” the governor’s not-a-campaign-book-campaign-book, out this Tuesday from Simon & Schuster, isn’t “Dreams From My Father” or “Contract With America,” and it doesn't want to be.

In a characteristically pragmatic, Midwestern way, the 10 life lessons Whitmer shares — with chapter titles like, “don’t let the bullies get you down,” “take nothing personally,” “you’ll never regret being kind” — collectively make the case that in 2024, the United States of America needs a way back more than a look forward.

Or maybe just an off-ramp from the turbulence that has engulfed this country for the last eight years.  

All of us lived through these years, but Whitmer’s perspective comes from the center of the storm. She survived, literally, the wild backlash of the COVID-19 pandemic — a group of extremists, apparently incensed by her pandemic restrictions, plotted to kidnap and kill her — governing through the efforts of the Trump administration to hamper Michigan’s COVID response, the overturn of Roe v. Wade and the fight to preserve reproductive rights in Michigan, and an intense 2022 re-election campaign.  

Whitmer is unselfconsciously frank about details others might try to obscure: As a tailgating teenager, she threw up on her principal’s shoes. As a child at church camp, Whitmer knocked her front teeth out, and keeping implants in place has been a task. She has tattoos, including one of a shark, as in, “It’s Shark Week, m-----f-----,” an expletive she was caught mouthing on camera before a virtual speech delivered to the 2020 Democratic National Convention.  

And despite her assertions to the contrary, she’s probably running for president in 2028. Whitmer denies having any such plan — but seriously, why else are we here? 

(After President Joe Biden's poor debate showing last month, Whitmer was mentioned as a potential 2024 candidate. Whitmer and other Democratic governors met with president last week, and she wrote on social media that he has her continued support.)

She’s terrifically popular in Michigan, her 57.6% approval rating far exceeding Biden or former President Donald Trump. Personally progressive, she governs as a centrist, focused on the “dinner table” issues she believes Michiganders care most about. She can appeal to voters in multiple Rust Belt swing states. She’s a Gen X woman at a time when voters are weary of the male septuagenarian and octogenarian political class. She’s won every election she’s run in, becoming governor twice by wide margins — and she’s good at her job.  

She’d be crazy not to take a shot.  

On first read, “True Gretch” feels more pragmatic than visionary. But in this climate, I’m starting to think pragmatic is the most visionary thing a politician can be. 

*****

Last month, I talked to Whitmer about “True Gretch,” her tenure as governor and what it means to be a woman in public life. Oh, and Dolly Parton.

The conversation has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

So, first question: You mention two tattoos in the book. How many do you have, total? 

Three.  

Three? But we don't mention the third in the book. 

No, we don’t.  

Is that the “Whitmer 2028” tattoo?  

No. *laughs* 

So, serious questions … This isn't really a memoir. I would maybe call it a manifesto if that wasn't a negative term, or maybe a declaration of “I'm Gretchen Whitmer, here's how I like to be, and maybe you guys would like to be this way, too.” How do you see it?   

I think of it kind of like a handbook. Ten lessons I've learned at different points in my life that have sustained me through the most tumultuous six years in political life in this country anyone could imagine.  

It's definitely that, but it also seems like it gets to something about the very specific worldview that you have. It feels, like you’re getting at not just life lessons, but things that are home truths for you. 

These are the things that have grounded me and sustained me. I wrote this in the book, but it's God’s honest truth that everywhere I go, people ask me, how do you stay positive with all the ugliness and heavy stuff we've had to navigate? I get that question over and over again and I thought, you know, this is gonna be a heavy year. I could write it so that it's quick and digestible and accessible for people, and maybe put a little light out into what is a dark time.  

So if you get a laugh at my expense, or something resonates, or there's a lesson that inspires you or helps you get through something tough, then that's really what it's all about.  

At times, your positivity has frustrated me — during the 2022 debates, when your GOP opponent went on the attack, I wanted you to get into it with her. Instead, you would say, "Oh, that's silly” or “You know that's not true,” and move on. It seems to me that much of your success is based on the idea that people actually want a grown-up who's not going to get into these sorts of petty fights. And you've been, obviously, right.   

It's a concerted choice that I have to make every day, to be honest. There’s that chapter about the former state Senate majority leader calling me names and you just have to look at it and go, “All right.” (Editor’s note: former Senate Majority Leader Mike Shirkey, R-Clarklake, said Whitmer was “on the batshit-crazy spectrum,” that he wanted to fist fight her on the Capitol lawn and that he’d “spanked” her on legislation.) 

I am capable — and would find certain satisfaction — in responding in kind, but it's not going to be constructive, and at the end of the day I want to get shit done. That's what it's all about. So I do think that that resonates with people, because I think every one of us has plenty of opportunities over the course of our life to throw a counter punch, and we have to make a concerted decision if we're going to be effective and get things done. 

The only things that I really regret having written are when I was so impressed with my own cleverness. You're right, it's a choice. And it's normally the right choice.  

You never regret being kind. I really believe that. I have regretted being sarcastic. I have regretted losing my temper. But I've never regretted being kind.  

I ran into a person at an event one time and I knew he looked familiar from somewhere, but I couldn't place it. So I just greeted him with a hug and I walked away — and realized he was the consultant that was putting all this horrible stuff out about me on my opponent's behalf. And I thought, oh my God, I just hugged that guy — that jerk — and then I realized, you know what, I'd rather hug someone that I didn't mean to than insult someone I didn't mean to. 

All women in public life have to walk a line. We have to be more personal, we have to be more personable, we have to share more of ourselves, but if we share too much, that's a problem too. Can you talk about walking that line as a governor — and in the book — of letting people see enough of you, but not putting too much out there? 

I think it's important to recognize that the women that came before me gave me license and space to show up as I am. That's a gift. You think about all the heat that Jennifer Granholm or Hillary Clinton or Ann Richards or Debbie Stabenow took because they were the first, and it's given people in my generation, our generation the opportunity. I mean, I know I'm older than you, Nancy —  

Not that much older! 

It gives us license to show up as we are. That's a gift they didn't have, so I'm always mindful of that. That’s why it's important to connect with people and let people see the humanity in me, as I try to see the humanity in them.  

Sharing my story of being a rape survivor was really hard. (Editor’s note: In 2013, Whitmer revealed on the floor of the state Legislature in 2013 that she had been sexually assaulted in college, part of an ultimately unsuccessful effort by Democrats to stop the Republican-led state Legislature to require women to purchase a special health insurance rider to cover abortions. The current Democratic majority repealed that law in 2023.) And yet every day since then I have been grateful that I did, because I gave voice to something that needed to be done. But more importantly, I've connected with so many people that have, walked in the same path.  

And that’s a gift.  

I also have to be protective of my family and not put too much out there.  

So now people know I have tattoos. They know I like beer, but everyone already knew that part before. I'm a human being, too, and sometimes it's hard to see politicians as real life people. But I think that's important. I'm an ordinary person serving in an extraordinary role, and certainly in extraordinary times, and I don't want to lose sight of that I'm just a regular person, too. 

You wrote that you were terrified to talk about having been sexually assaulted. What were you most afraid of? 

I didn't want to be defined by it. I think anyone who's a survivor is worried about that, that something that was inflicted on me could be the first thing people lead with in stories, and not who I am, where I come from, what I've accomplished, what I'm focused on doing, but to be defined by a horrible event that happened to me in my life. I think that's what I was afraid of.  

Maybe it's part of the generation but ... it's like, tough stuff happens, and I was brought up at a time where we just didn't talk a ton about it. We didn't dwell on it. We dusted ourselves off and just kept going, and I think that's maybe a part of who I am, too. 

I'm almost 49, not that much younger than you ... This felt like a very Gen X book. Do you feel strongly connected to Gen X? 

I do. I was reading an article the other day about Gen X and how we're the latchkey kids. We had a key around our necks and went off to school. We're expected to get home ... I remember my sister had broken her arm at school, and she was lying on the couch in pain. I was quite young, I called my mom at work and she was like, “Oh, give her a Twinkie and I'll check it when I get home.” You know what I mean?  

Or one time, my brother had to go get stitches, and my mom rushed out to the hospital with him. We were pretty young. So I called a babysitter for us. That’s just what we did. And if you can't get ahold of the babysitter, you just hold down the fort. At my old age of 10. 

Speaking of Gen X things, Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” is on the “True Gretch” playlist included in the book … the movie “9 to 5” is visionary in terms how it talks about reshaping the workplace, and it's shocking like how few of those things we have done, like on-site daycare, or being able to split shifts for working moms. Would you consider a “9 to 5” policy platform? 

I like the idea. So many movies from when we were growing up do not hold up over time. That one does. Like you said, it was visionary, but sad to say there's still lots of work that needs to be done. I love the “9 to 5” agenda, and maybe we can get Dolly Parton and Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin to come help us.  

Reliving those early days of the COVID-19 pandemic in this book was hard. Like when you wrote how former President Donald Trump doled out assistance based on which governors had been nice to him, and what a bizarre view of public service that is, and particularly, I think, antithetical to your approach.   

I remember being on the calls with my fellow governors, and just listening to some of them really sucking up, and they were doing it because they had figured out that if they did it, they'd get more help. It was really jarring, because I really do believe my job is to serve all the people in Michigan, whether they voted for me or not.  

I go out of my way to show up for people who didn't vote for me, because I want to earn their confidence and I want to make sure that government's working for everyone. So to be in a situation where the ability to get masks is being undermined because the president's feelings are hurt was just really mind boggling.  

I couldn't believe what was happening. In the book, I predominantly describe my feelings as fear. It wasn't anger that he was singling me out. It was fear that it was going to make it harder to get masks for doctors and nurses in Michigan. I was afraid. I wasn't mad or insulted. I was like, oh my God, is this really how this is going to operate? Ultimately it didn't end up significantly impacting us, but that was his intent. He couldn't carry it through, thankfully.

That's no coincidence:A kidnap, murder plot targeted Gretchen Whitmer

You write that you want to sit down with the men who plotted to kidnap and murder you. What do you hope could be achieved?   

I just want to understand what led them to that point. … I'd like to sit down maybe with one of the people that took a plea deal ... who has shown some remorse, (and say), "Help me understand how this came to be. What was going on?” Whitmers, we don't really take things personally. We don't hold grudges. We have thick skin and short memories, but I'm always trying to learn something. All I can assume is that there's something that wasn't going right in their lives that led them to a point where they felt like that was a solution ... it still doesn't make sense to me. And I want to understand that, and if it was lack of employment, lack of opportunity … whatever it was, if, if there's a way that we can help people and learn from it, it's worth having that conversation. 

Did that experience make you more guarded? 

Absolutely. I would carefree walk into any room in any part of the state, and show up and not be worried. From then on, when I show up at events, I'm looking around — and it's not so much about fear for my safety, but I worry about everyone around me. We didn't walk the Mackinac Bridge the year of the election, because all I kept thinking of is, if there's a person who shows up, the people around me could be in danger. That includes the state police, it includes my family, it includes my staff.   

Folks sometimes try to impose qualifications on your political success. When you were elected in 2018 it was “the year of the woman.” In 2022, your win was “because abortion rights were on the ballot,” when that's simply not true — your polling had remained pretty much the same before and after the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. You’re one of the most successful electoral politicians in state history, and people still find a way to put asterisks on your accomplishments. 

I think it's a uniquely gendered issue, and I'll be honest, it can be frustrating. I hope that it’s different by the time my children are 52. But I can also see the value in it. People underestimate you. and you know what, I love to underpromise and over deliver. So to be underestimated can be a gift, and I choose to look at it that way. They don't see you coming.

OK, so I’ve got to ask — are you running in 2028? 

No! 

You're not? 

Nancy, I have no plans. I have no plans to run for president, not this year, not in the foreseeable future. I'm not making any plans on that front.  

When you're ready to make an announcement, I would note that the Free Press is a great place to do that sort of thing. 

You would be my first call. 

Nancy Kaffer is editorial page editor of the Detroit Free Press. Contact her at nkaffer@freepress.com. Submit a letter to the editor at freep.com/letters and we may publish it online and in print.

Correction: A previously published version of this column misstated Whitmer's approval rating. It has been updated with the correct figure.