On the whole, I’m not the most emotional person. But when I walked out of my polling place, I found myself choked up. I didn’t cry because I was thrilled to vote for a particular candidate, nor did I cry out of fear of another candidate.
I cried because when I looked around, I realized that Jared was the only white male in the room. I cried because I realized that despite the claims that our nation was founded on liberty and justice for all, none of us in that polling place were guaranteed a right to vote in 1776.
Because until 1870 the color of your skin determined whether you were really a man.
Because until 1920 by my gender I wouldn’t have been considered worthy to make an informed vote.
Because until 1965 most of my neighbors here couldn’t go to the polls without intimidation and attack.
I cried because an out-of-business Men’s Warehouse in a mall became a tiny testimony to equality and civil rights and we still have so much work to do.
Because I am mindful some people can’t vote, like those in my neighboring refugee community or our undocumented brother and sisters or my friends still in the the citizenship process or minorities who are suppressed by voter ID laws or amazing women I’ve met who have spent time in prison.
I never want to take for granted that I get this chance to participate in the process. My vote for President won’t necessarily make a difference in the outcome, but still, my vote matters.
Happy Election Day. Make your voice heard.