To Vote, Or Not To Vote?


I am proud to have the right to vote.  I am grateful to live in a place where there is no fear of what candidate to choose, where women have fought to allow other women to vote, and where I don’t have to walk six miles and wait in line all day, only to have my vote tossed out by a corrupted leader who manipulates the system.

I’ve voted in every election and every primary since I turned 18.  This counts school referendums, primaries, presidential elections, and local council people.  It counts city trustees and school board members.  I’ve expressed my choice through that little button in the machine.  My chads were not hanging.  I pushed the button with some umph behind it, confident that my vote would make a difference and that the person who was elected would do a good job.

This upcoming presidential election is the first time I’ve ever considered skipping a vote.  It’s the first time I haven’t agreed enough with a candidate’s promises to show support.  I’m awake to the meaning of the phrase “it’s just politics.”  The naivety that I once had, that a fearless leader was invincible and would do the right things, and would stand up to the man and fight for the little people, is gone.  I’m jaded.  I’m tired of the media coverage.  And although there are lots of freedoms around voting, the candidate I supported is not going to be on the ballot because that’s just the way things work.  It’s just politics, I suppose.

I am excited to vote in my local elections for wonderful candidates.  I want to work with them in the next few years to raise awareness and support for pregnancy loss.  I don’t think I want to vote in the presidential election.  My silence is my vote this time.  My chad won’t hang; it won’t be pushed.  I’m not with her, I’m not with him.  I’m just idle this year.  And that’s my right.

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