Being a writer and a busy mother, my solitary drives are my sacred time to think about what I am going to write. During this time, I mentally sketch out plots, develop characters, work out dialogue, and think of new posts to write for the week. Today was no different except that my mental exercise of writing extended far beyond my own artistic endeavors.
It is because on this day, Election Day, I am writing more than fiction. I, with all of America, am the author of our country’s history.
After 597 long days of campaigning, heated debates (between the candidates and family members), mud slinging, news coverage, and endless polling, we have arrived at today. The day that we each have the opportunity to enact our right to choose whom we believe will best meet our needs and serve our country. Today, we vote.
What I feel is most important to discuss on this day is the significance of being able to choose the person we feel best supports our ideology and represents us. We each have been endowed with a right, which was hard fought and won to select who we feel will be the best leader of our country.
As Americans, we should never forget that this integral part of our country’s political process is our privilege and therefore, our duty. Voting was a right not afforded so some at certain points in our history, making the fight and victory to do so even more considerable.
As a woman, I nor my mother nor my grandmother has known the isolating and discriminatory feeling of not being allowed to vote. I am, however, fully aware that my ability to freely walk into a polling place and cast my vote is possible because others made sure of it.
So today, I voted.
I waited in line, took my ballot and stood with pen in hand ready to have my voice heard. But will it be heard?
Often as a writer, it feels as though my words and the books they lie within are much like grains of sand on the beach. How, with so many, will my words be read?
It is what I believe so many of us, whether writers or not, feel about our voices. We question how we can be heard in the din of so many others. It is what stops some from voting. It is, however, in error that we choose apathy. After all, our voice alone may not be loud enough but together we form a chorus that resonates an earsplitting sound, calling for the changes for which we hope.
It is why writers, even unknown ones, continue to write. It is because we know that through our words and our voice we join a larger body. It is then that through united self-expression, we determine our path, make changes and write our history.
After all that is what we are all today—we are writers as we stand with pen in hand poised to fill in our voter’s ballot. With our pen, we will not write a tome but rather we will ink in small spaces as we elect our future leader. It is an act of authorship much more important than shelves of novels for today we will “write” who will be our next president, the future decisions made, and the course charted for our country.
And because we have enacted this right and fulfilled this duty, we have each become the author of our history.
Thank you for reading. I look forward to your comments.