it took me a full two minutes to figure out how to use the antiquated
voting machine in my district. i pulled the red bar to the right -
like a slot machine - and looked up at the green board. the only name i
could see was "hillary clinton." i was paralyzed. i looked around
through the gaps in the curtain that didn't quite close behind me. the
room was filled entirely with people of color. i thought about the 15th
amendment. and the 19th amendment. i wondered if they were voting
democrat.
i took a deep breath, and looked again,
trying to interpret the words on the board. hillary clinton. john
edwards. (john edwards? i thought. there go the votes. this system
is so f-ed up.) i continued to scan. barack obama. i found the
directions, printed in tiny, capitalized, bureaucratic-looking letters:
CHOOSE ONE CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT.
unexpectedly, a
little shiver of excitement ran through my body. as cynical as i am, as
tired as i am, my body still recognized the historical significance of
the moment. i flipped the lever for my presidential candidate, as well
for as seven other people running for various positions for which i did
not know the relevance or meaning. i pushed the red bar to the left,
and walked out of the booth.
i looked around and
paused, as if waiting for something to happen. nothing did. i walked
home. i thought: whether or not it mattered, whether or not it made a
difference, whether or not it was counted, i voted. me. a queer muslim
female POC.
wouldn't the ancestors be proud.
