November 2010 Midterm Elections and Every Election
I voted today. I walked exactly five blocks to the district precinct and stood in line for maybe five minutes before casting my vote.
I vote in every election that I can. Not because it's a privilege to do so, but because it's a duty and responsibility to my parents, my grandparents and all of the people who came before me who struggled so hard for me to be able to go into a voting booth-- without fear or intimidation -- pick up a pencil and darken a circle on a sheet of paper (or make my selection on a touch screen).
I can do that, thanks to the Voting Rights Act. But there's a lot of history between the struggle and the triumph of me actually being to vote. Even if there's nobody on the ballot that I feel is worthy of my vote and I still do it, because it always counts.
It counts because the right to vote and how I actually acquired it on the backs of so many who endured so much that I can't even imagine -- from marches, to protests met with violence to the resulting legislation-- are a much more powerful incentive, at least for me, than who wins or who loses an election.
Of course, I care whether my candidate of choice prevails. But on a cosmic level, the final vote tally really doesn't matter. What matters is that I had the opportunity to make the choice, the opportunity to participate in the process (whether that actually makes a difference is a subject for another day).
I always walk away from the ballot box feeling a bit wistful and proud. At that moment and for a long time afterward, I am thinking about the strength and determination of people who kept pushing, toppling obstacles like literacy tests and grandfather clauses, so that I (a Brown vs. Board of Education baby) could in 2010 cast a vote without fear, without intimidation.
I felt the same way at 18, when I nervously cast my first ballot. And I felt it again today -- great pride and responsibility in exercising a right that was so hard to get and so long in coming.
It's my honor to pay tribute to those who gave their lives to make it possible. Thank you.
I vote in every election that I can. Not because it's a privilege to do so, but because it's a duty and responsibility to my parents, my grandparents and all of the people who came before me who struggled so hard for me to be able to go into a voting booth-- without fear or intimidation -- pick up a pencil and darken a circle on a sheet of paper (or make my selection on a touch screen).
 |
| Big Reward for Casting Ballot |
I can do that, thanks to the Voting Rights Act. But there's a lot of history between the struggle and the triumph of me actually being to vote. Even if there's nobody on the ballot that I feel is worthy of my vote and I still do it, because it always counts.
It counts because the right to vote and how I actually acquired it on the backs of so many who endured so much that I can't even imagine -- from marches, to protests met with violence to the resulting legislation-- are a much more powerful incentive, at least for me, than who wins or who loses an election.
Of course, I care whether my candidate of choice prevails. But on a cosmic level, the final vote tally really doesn't matter. What matters is that I had the opportunity to make the choice, the opportunity to participate in the process (whether that actually makes a difference is a subject for another day).
I always walk away from the ballot box feeling a bit wistful and proud. At that moment and for a long time afterward, I am thinking about the strength and determination of people who kept pushing, toppling obstacles like literacy tests and grandfather clauses, so that I (a Brown vs. Board of Education baby) could in 2010 cast a vote without fear, without intimidation.
I felt the same way at 18, when I nervously cast my first ballot. And I felt it again today -- great pride and responsibility in exercising a right that was so hard to get and so long in coming.
It's my honor to pay tribute to those who gave their lives to make it possible. Thank you.
Comments
Post a Comment