Evan Redmond, 18, came to the Democratic National Convention as a North Carolina delegate for Sen. Bernie Sanders (Vt.). (Melina Mara/The Washington Post)

— Evan Redmond walked into Wells Fargo Center on Monday afternoon, a true believer in the cause of Bernie Sanders but looking for a reason to back Hillary Clinton.

Over four days, the 18-year-old gender-fluid delegate from rural North Carolina watched as the Democratic Party rolled out celebrities and musicians, pastors and presidents to persuade skeptical Americans that they could trust her.

It worked. Until the final night.

Amid shouting matches between protesters and Clinton supporters, and then the nominee’s own remarks, Redmond walked out.

Some delegates for Bernie Sanders had a hard time accepting the end of their candidate's campaign during the four days of the Democratic National Convention. (Alice Li,Jayne Orenstein/The Washington Post)

“I just did not feel comfortable anymore there,” Redmond said. “I have to be honest to myself.”

The Democrats’ convention this week was a carefully choreographed show designed to help Clinton present a stark contrast to Republican nominee Donald Trump, to scare middle-of-the-road voters away from the real estate mogul while also energizing her core supporters. The program seemed designed to please nearly every potential interest group — a politically practical blend of optimism about the nation and empathy toward those hurting economically, mixed with a strong dose of patriotism and promises to defeat the Islamic State.

For Redmond and others who were drawn to politics this year by Sanders’s populist purity, the convention offered a difficult reminder of the limits of their influence. They managed to disrupt the proceedings at times, but in the end, the four-day celebration of Clinton presented a choice: whether to compromise in order to unify against Trump or to hold true to their ideals even if they remain forever out of reach.

Redmond, a first-time voter, had hoped to find the right balance. Redmond wanted to walk a line that would help chart a path into politics. Instead it led out the door.

***

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Redmond, who identified as a boy growing up, was in fifth grade when Barack Obama became president.

Obama’s victory, the boy’s teachers had declared, showed that anything was possible.

But as Redmond grew older, he felt the sting of discrimination. Just this year, North Carolina lawmakers banned people from using bathrooms that differed from the sex listed on their birth certificate. Still, Redmond held on to those declarations his teacher first made about Obama and began to think about changing the world as a politician.

Sanders’s candidacy inspired Redmond in a way that no others did. The senator from Vermont taught Redmond to believe that Washington’s problems were rooted in its coziness with Wall Street corporatists and that Clinton was a prime example. Sanders’s campaign was inclusive and principled, and so Redmond got in a van and knocked on doors in Iowa.

With the Sanders campaign, Redmond felt more comfortable. Redmond publicly presented as a woman for the first time while working to become a Sanders delegate.

When Sanders lost, Redmond remained uneasy with the former secretary of state — dismayed by her ties to big banks, her apparent flip-flopping on trade, her past support for the Iraq war and her militarism. Redmond took Clinton’s lack of a formal apology for being late to endorse same-sex-marriage rights as a personal affront, no matter how much the LGBT community had forgiven her.

When Redmond arrived in Philadelphia, there were suddenly more reasons to feel doubt — leaked Democratic National Committee emails showing that officials favored Clinton over Sanders even though they had claimed to be neutral.

Nonetheless, Sanders was encouraging his supporters to vote for Clinton. When the senator made his case at a rally before the convention’s official start, the crowd booed. Redmond, presenting as male that day, decided not to join in, even though something was stirring within.

“I understand why he said what he said, but I think it’s understandable for us to still be upset,” Redmond said.“It’s not just that he lost. It’s that we know the game was rigged and they had so much disregard for our opinions.”

Later that evening, Redmond laughed when Sarah Silverman got on the stage and made jokes about “Feeling the Bern.” But then Redmond felt hurt when Silverman looked into the crowd and said, “To the Bernie or Bust people: You’re being ridiculous.”

Didn’t she understand?

“A lot of Bernie people . . . wouldn’t have voted for Clinton in the first place,” Redmond said.“She isn’t respecting the position many of us are in.”

Redmond’s mood shifted again later in the evening when Michelle Obama took the stage.

As someone who as a child had been called a derogatory term for gay people, Redmond appreciated hearing the first lady talk about choosing a president who would teach children to be kind.

The lights dimmed, and Sanders’s widely acclaimed “America” ad began playing on overhead screens. Listening to the peaceful rhythm of the Simon & Garfunkel song, Redmond was reminded about this journey into his identity as a voter, an activist and a delegate. His eyes began to redden with a mix of nostalgia and anger.

“This was the ad for us,” Redmond said.

Sanders took the stage, and the crowd roared its approval. But then, once again, he urged support for Clinton.

Redmond left the arena in tears.

***

The roll call of the states came the next afternoon.

The arena was awash with colorful “H” signs waving wildly, hoisted by many of the delegates who, like Redmond, had initially been calling for Sanders’s “political revolution.” The establishment had officially won the round.

“Now what do we do?” Redmond asked. Redmond was given a purple “H” sign but quickly said, “I’m not ready to wave it yet.”

After the vote, Facebook messages streamed into Redmond’s phone. Other Sanders supporters were discussing whether — or how — to stage a protest of some sort on the convention floor.

“Sit in,” one wrote.

“Walk out,” said another.

“I am walking a bizarre line,” Redmond said.

Now in a black dress, Redmond said she understood the protesters’ feelings but wanted to give the nominee a chance.

Some of the Sanders supporters did not want to. They left their seats and headed to the press area to protest Sanders’s lack of news coverage.They stood outside with tape on their mouths, claiming they had been silenced by the DNC.

Redmond stood with them but only briefly. She wanted to watch the testimony of black mothers who had lost their sons or daughters to gun violence or in police-involved incidents.

“Black lives matter!” Redmond yelled. The slogan began echoing around her, a sign that the party was willing to embrace the left.

A woman sitting next to Redmond that night stared at the stage with her mouth agape. She almost teared up as she applauded the entrance of Madeleine Albright, the country’s first female secretary of state.

“I just love her,” said Judy Foster. “I’m so excited about Hillary.”

Redmond explained to Foster that she couldn’t be so excited. She was worried about Clinton’s time in the Senate, and her stance on the Iraq war.

“It seems there are two types of politicians,” Redmond said. “Some just do what the majority of their constituents want, and others are guided by moral values. And I guess I prefer candidates who speak from a position of morality, not what’s popular.”

Foster, 69, explained that her connection was personal. She had grown up in Park Ridge, Ill., with Clinton. Her sister and Clinton were friends, and Clinton would sometimes come to dinner.

“She’s a good woman with a big heart, and she always has been,” Foster said. “She made some mistakes, but as you get older, you make mistakes. And you recover from them.”

Albright introduced former president Bill Clinton, who, in his folksy manner detailed aspects of the nominee’s work helping African American children in the South and providing legal aid in Arkansas.

“I never knew those details before,” Redmond said.

Redmond held that purple “H” sign and wondered whether she would be ready to wave it by the end of the week.

***

On the third night, Vice President Biden lifted his hands to hush the crowd. He leaned in to the microphone, and Redmond leaned in too. Biden spoke of Clinton’s ethical nature, her caring attitude. It seemed genuine. Then came President Obama’s defense of American democracy and his call for activists to put their passions to use in the public arena.

The following night, Redmond watched the testimony of Sarah McBride, the first transgender person to ever address the convention. Redmond was pleased to see such an open embrace of the community. She liked that there were gender-neutral bathrooms set up in the arena.

“I’m beginning to feel comfortable being a Democrat,” she said.

There were older people there who turned their heads toward Redmond and figured they saw nothing more than a boy in a dress. And still there was the man who tapped her on the shoulder to point out his husband, an openly gay North Carolina state representative who was fighting the bathroom bill.

There were Democrats talking about raising the minimum wage and being against the Trans- ­Pacific Partnership, ideas pushed by Sanders.

Redmond had heard of “big tent” politics and now understood what it must have meant.

“I think the thing I’ve learned here is usually the established people give away their principles too easily,” Redmond said. “And the activists, maybe, hold on to them for too long. But at the end of the day, you have to come together and stop the worst thing from happening.”

Then, the mood started changing. First, the heartfelt testimony of Khizr Khan, the father of a Muslim soldier who was killed in Iraq. Brave, Redmond thought. Then came the American flags, large and small, covering the aisle, and the chanting of “U-S-A! U-S-A!” Potentially dangerous, Redmond said, to display such gross nationalism. It was that attitude, Redmond thought, that made the country so eager to enter into the war that killed Khan’s son.

Retired Gen. John R. Allen approached the stage to the sound of snare drums. With gusto and confidence, Allen talked about destroying enemies and eradicating evil. More flags filled the arena. Sanders supporters, clad in neon green, began chanting in response: “No more war! No more war!”

The “U-S-A” chants got louder to drown out the protesters. Redmond stood up in silence. She raised two fingers in the air, for peace.

Redmond’s Facebook messages were buzzing again. Texts had been sent to Sanders supporters not to heckle Clinton’s nomination speech. Many wanted to ignore the request. Redmond suggested that a chant of “No more war” would only trigger louder chants of “U-S-A,” giving an even stronger impression that Democrats wanted to kill people.

“A symbolic silence would be perfect,” Redmond wrote.

“We look like Republicans,” Redmond said.

Clinton started to speak. “No more war” continued but was being drowned out by “U-S-A” and “Hill-a-ry.” Clinton kept speaking. Redmond’s phone kept buzzing.

She applauded when Clinton decried systemic racism.

“And we will defend all our rights, civil rights, human rights and voting rights, women’s rights and workers’ rights, LGBT rights and the rights of people with disabilities,” Clinton said. “And we will stand up against mean and divisive rhetoric wherever it comes from.”

The rest of the arena was cheering, but Redmond had stopped. The teenager, after all, associated “mean and divisive rhetoric” in part with the Clintons, because of Bill Clinton’s signing of the Defense of Marriage Act.

Redmond saw Hillary Clinton’s war rhetoric as an effort to appeal to conservatives. Then the love rhetoric seemed designed to appeal to liberals. It all felt too inconsistent.

“It just makes me uncomfortable to hear her say the words ‘LGBT’ and not acknowledge that she made mistakes,” Redmond said.

Clinton would quote lines from the Broadway musical “Hamilton.” Balloons would fall to the floor, and many delegates would cry in the patriotic jubilation that came with the ascent of the first woman as a major-party U.S. presidential nominee. Redmond witnessed none of it.

Redmond said she’ll probably end up voting for Clinton, considering the competition. But Redmond left the arena resolved to align with a different cause.

Outside the hall, a woman walked past Redmond with her mouth covered in duct tape. Two more women sat on the floor with letters on a “Hillary” sign blacked out to read “Liar.” A television camera walked up to them to film the protest.

Redmond patted the protesters on their backs. For now, these were still her people.