So we’re down to Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders. All the women with an actual shot, all the people of color, the first openly gay major presidential candidate, they’re out. All out.

Despite all the talk about changing demographics and gender equality, our political system still feels like a pasta strainer that clings only to white men in their 70s. Everyone else eventually goes down the drain.

The disappointment was immediate and palpable when Sen. Elizabeth Warren reluctantly dropped out of the race Thursday.

“She would have been a great president,” tweeted Mayor Jim Kenney, who endorsed her.

Of all comments and commentary, though, one tweet that was posted the day before by actress June Diane Raphael resonated: “Stop telling your daughters they can be president when you are unwilling to vote for a woman president.”

That hurt. Except here’s the thing: Many women — women of color especially — are already hip to the hypocrisy. Any of us who have been part of the endless conversations and committees on diversity already know that people like the idea of diversity and inclusion much more than its reality.

If that weren’t true, most women wouldn’t earn less than men.

Women wouldn’t bear the brunt of unpaid work.

Legions of qualified women in just about every career path wouldn’t still be propping up coddled men while expected to quietly wait their turn.

A protester (left) is held back by Biden adviser Symone Sanders, wearing stripes, face unseen, and Jill Biden (second from right) as Democratic presidential candidate Joe Biden stands at right during a primary election night rally on Tuesday in Los Angeles.
Marcio Jose Sanchez / AP Photo
A protester (left) is held back by Biden adviser Symone Sanders, wearing stripes, face unseen, and Jill Biden (second from right) as Democratic presidential candidate Joe Biden stands at right during a primary election night rally on Tuesday in Los Angeles.

How fitting was it that Biden’s wife, Jill, and his senior adviser Symone Sanders put themselves between a protester and the candidate during his victory speech on Super Tuesday?

Women are saving men’s carcasses — literally and figuratively — every damn day. But we couldn’t possibly be president.

We can, apparently, be heads of some things. Those inspiring and infuriating firsts.

Police Commissioner Danielle Outlaw on her way out of the Roundhouse on her first day in office as police commissioner, Monday, Feb. 10, 2020.
JESSICA GRIFFIN / Staff Photographer
Police Commissioner Danielle Outlaw on her way out of the Roundhouse on her first day in office as police commissioner, Monday, Feb. 10, 2020.

The first black female Philadelphia police commissioner.

The first black female dean of Wharton.

The first female publisher of The Inquirer.

Progress, for sure, as long as you don’t dwell on just how long it’s all taken – 190 years for The Inquirer. It is 2020 and almost daily I still walk past meetings and spaces dominated by men, if not completely run by white men. And this isn’t the only place where that happens.

Have you seen photos of Donald Trump’s cabinet and task forces?

President Trump's Cabinet members, mostly white men, meet with him at the White House in August.
Jabin Botsford
President Trump's Cabinet members, mostly white men, meet with him at the White House in August.

Watching the coverage of Warren outside her home after a disappointing Super Tuesday showing was nothing short of brutal.

Speaking about the role that gender played in the campaign, Warren said: “Gender in this race, you know that is the trap question for every woman. If you say, ‘Yeah, there was sexism in this race,’ everyone says, ‘Whiner!’ And if you say, ‘No, there was no sexism,’ about a gazillion women say, ‘What planet do you live on?’ ”

Put me in the latter group.

Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D., Mass.) acknowledges supporters as she arrives to speak to the media outside her home Thursday in Cambridge, Mass., after she dropped out of the Democratic presidential race.
Steven Senne / AP
Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D., Mass.) acknowledges supporters as she arrives to speak to the media outside her home Thursday in Cambridge, Mass., after she dropped out of the Democratic presidential race.

Many women took to social media to talk about their disappointment after Warren was out. One tweet posted by Washington Post columnist Margaret Sullivan caught my eye.

“As someone who has been the first-woman this or first-woman that, throughout my career (and many times been the only woman in the room), all I can say is it seems like a miracle now. And I’m so damn grateful for all the help I got, a lot from men.”

As a Puerto Rican woman who was the first Latina metro columnist at my old paper, who is one of only a handful of Latina reporters at this paper and the only Latina columnist, and who defies what many people still think a columnist should look like, I hear that.

But I shouldn’t be the first or only of anything anymore.

In Esquire, this week, writer Charles Pierce wrote: “It’s plain now that, for the moment, anyway, a large part of the Democratic primary electorate is hungering for a president that it can ignore for four or five days a week.”

In that case, a woman would have been perfect.

We ignore them every day.

If that sounds angry or bitter, that’s because I am both. Unapologetically.

All women should feel this way. Those are well-earned emotions fueled by fight.

On Thursday, when Warren talked about the little girls with whom she made pinkie promises so that they’d remember that running for president is what girls do, her voice broke.

“One of the hardest parts of this is all those pinkie promises. And all those little girls who are gonna have to wait four more years. That’s gonna be hard.”

It’s time for another pinkie swear. I know a lot of women are already vowing to continue the fight until we aren’t just running for president but we are president. And I’m all in.

But in the meantime, those of us who truly value diversity and inclusion should vow to push the ones who just talk the talk — out of the way.