I Cried in an Election Booth Today

Image credit @curiousquail on Twitter 

I cried in an election booth today.

Because when I was a little girl I used to say I wanted to grow up to be President of the United States. Except somewhere along the way, I stopped believing it possible in my lifetime

I cried in an election booth today.

Because I wrote a letter to the editor this week about some racist bullshit going down at my son’s school and when I posted it online, my cousin called me upset.

Do you want the KKK burning crosses on your lawn? You need to think about these things before you do them! I keep picturing bricks being thrown through your windows.

Something else I believed impossible in my lifetime.

I cried in an election booth today.

Because my friend’s husband is Muslim and she’s scared for her kids. They are born here in America but she’s afraid we’re fast approaching a day when that won’t matter anymore because their names don’t sound American enough.

I cried in an election booth today.

Because a presidential candidate’s cavalier attitude towards the sexual assault of women, after he’d claimed Mexicans are rapists, prompted me to write about why what he said was so deeply offensive and upsetting. 

Still, I have to watch people comment and post on social media about how overly sensitive I am about his use of the word pussy.

As if that’s what I took issue with.

I cried in an election booth today.

Because it’s fucking tiring having man babies explain my emotions. 

To me.

I cried in an election booth today.

Because my husband, who isn’t politically active but who finally gave in to my pleading and registered to vote a few years ago then voted in one presidential election and has refused to vote ever since, texted me this morning.

Him: I’m still registered to vote, right?

Me: Yeah. Why?

Him: Because I can’t live with myself if that asshat wins and I didn’t vote. Wait for me.

I cried in an election booth today.

Because I was so relieved he wanted to come with me. I was ashamed to admit that I was afraid to vote alone this time. I’ve voted in every election I’ve been eligible to vote in, minus maybe one or two shortly after delivering a child, since I turned 18. I’ve brought my children with me every time I’ve voted since becoming a mother.

And today I was afraid.

But outside my polling place stood a group of people with signs that read Free Hugs.

I cried in an election booth today.

Because of making history.

Because of fearing the outcome.

Because of very personal reasons.

I cried in an election booth today.

But not because I regretted my vote.

Not even a little bit.

Give Me My Moment With All the Female Pronouns

Anyone else sick of politics? Yeah, me too. But if you would please indulge me for a moment . . . 

Because I’m having a moment.

It hit me just a little while ago.

She is an official nominee for President of the United States of America. 

She wasn’t my first choice. She wasn’t in my top ten of potential choices. I do sort of feel as if I’m voting for her because she is the lesser of two evils. Way lesser. In fact, not even in the same realm of evil. Despite not being my first choice, I still think she has fuck tons of experience that will serve her well.

All that aside . . . 

SHE is an official nominee for President of the United States of America. 

I grew up thinking that would not ever happen. Not from one of the two major parties.

I grew up assuming, never questioning, that the President of the United States is a man. Always had been and always would be.

Kids today will not grow up with that assumption.

If you think this isn’t a big deal, consider recent articles from NPR and The Wall Street Journal that discuss the implications of a “First Dude” and his role. 

I mean, he certainly won’t give up his post-Presidential career, right? A First Lady sets aside her career, but not a First Dude, right? <insert manly shudders of horror>

My favorite debate is the one about picking place settings and decor. 

“With respect to my own husband, I am probably still going to pick the flowers and the china for state dinners and stuff like that, but I will certainly turn to him, as prior presidents have, for special missions for advice,” Hillary Clinton said in the ABC News Democratic debate in December.

That right there is why this is a big deal.

So give me my moment of relishing she and her. Let me enjoy my moment chock full of all the female pronouns and the realization that, finally, being she and her is the same as being limitless.