super tuesday

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.