A Different Kind of Power: A Memoir

by Jacinda Ardern

It was around then that I was sitting at my desk when my executive assistant came in. Clare-Louise had been a dedicated volunteer for me in Auckland Central, and I’d since hired her. Clare-Louise was younger than me, but had a nurturing vigilance about her. “Have you seen the cartoon?” she asked, worry in her voice. A cartoon? Whatever it was, I hadn’t seen it. “It’s in The Timaru Herald.” Almost apologetically, she placed a newspaper on my desk, folded to reveal a cartoon image of a boxing ring. In the far corner, a weary-looking David Cunliffe sat on a stool wearing boxing gloves. A speech bubble above his head said, “Caucus would only accept my preferred team if I found a role for Jacinda Ardern.” In the foreground was a depiction of me. I wore a bikini and black stiletto boots. My toothy smile was enormous, as was my hair. In my hands I held a sign that said, ROUND ONE. I glanced at the date of the paper: It had been printed that morning. September 19. Women’s Suffrage Day.