It’s New Year’s Eve 2015, or maybe New Year’s Day 2016. It’s my freshman year of high school, and I’m sitting in my friend’s basement listening to her older sister and her friends discussing the 2016 presidential election. They’re laughing, talking about how much they love Bernie and hate Hillary, and about the memes bound to come from Donald Trump’s campaign. One of them jokes that Donald Trump will be the Republican nominee, while the rest laugh it off. Another suggests that if it comes down to Trump versus Hillary, there’s no reason to vote, because he hates both of them.
The conversation has stuck with me since. I don’t know if he ended up voting, or if he did who he voted for. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, in 2016, less than 50 percent of 18-29 year-olds voted. This number has always surprised me, because when I think about my friends and peers we all seem equally passionate about voting, leading me to wonder why less than 50 percent of our age group voted in 2016. I’m hopeful that in 2020 those numbers will look different.
I can definitely understand the frustration voters feel, that their vote doesn’t matter; that the electoral college decides the election, not the popular vote; that they live in a state so “blue” or “red” that their vote won’t have an impact the election anyways; that no candidate fits their ideology so a vote for either one is a vote for the establishment. Some may feel tired of voting if they don’t believe their is a worthwhile reason to vote. Except voting is always worthwhile, and I challenge you to find your reason to vote.
It’s November 2018, and my friends with October birthdays are now old enough to vote. I feel a tinge of jealousy while discussing the Massachusetts ballot questions with them, trying to sway them one way or another. It’s not a presidential election and our Congressional race is unopposed. There really isn’t much to vote for, but it’s exciting thinking about that year’s ballot questions. Ballot questions vary by state but are generally initiatives or referenda designed to give voters a direct say in legislation. In 2020, voters in 34 states will vote on 129 ballot questions, shaping the course of legislation surrounding marijuana, voting, criminal justice, and other issues across the country. In my home state of Massachusetts, question two will determine whether or not Massachusetts should implement ranked choice voting for both primary and general elections at the state and federal levels.
It’s February 2019, and Trump’s former attorney Michael Cohen testifies before Congress. I hear Representative Elijah Cummings, a Democrat from Maryland’s 7th Congressional district, ask, “When we’re dancing with the angels, the question will be asked, in 2019, what did we do to make sure we kept our democracy intact? Did we stand on the sidelines and say nothing?” To not vote is to say nothing.
It’s May 2019, and my AP Government teacher has added yet another name to the ongoing list of candidates for the 2020 Democratic Primary. My friends and I excitedly discuss which candidates interest us, the number of women and people of color running, and the chances of a progressive nominee.
It’s September 2019, and I’ve just voted for the first time for the Boston City Council primary. Most of my preferred candidates for the at-large primary advance to the general election. That November, in the general election, the final result for the fourth at-large city council seat comes down to a single vote. Every vote matters.
It’s April 2020, and what was once a promising field of diverse, progressive candidates has come down to Joe Biden. 2020 will be yet another election where voters decide between two white men. I expect my friends to feel defeated, as the election is no longer about progressive politics or new representation. Rather than defeat, I see a spark.
It’s June 2020, and I notice my peers organizing for Joe, organizing to fight another day. The summer passes with my classmates spending hours making phone calls on behalf of candidates in Senate races outside their home states, excitedly chattering about the potential flip of the Senate, and calling for Joe as well.
It’s September 2020, and Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Gisnburg has died. Suddenly, a new wave of defeat washes over. Trump will get a third SCOTUS nominee. My Instagram feed is taken over with posts about voting for her. A vote for her means honoring her work, a chance to protect decisions such as Roe v. Wade, United States v. Virginia, and Obergefell v. Hodges. When we vote we honor the legacy of those who came before us, those who fought for us to have the right and privilege of voting.
It’s October 2020, and I’ve started to see campaign announcements for the 2021 Boston mayoral race. I’m reminded that although Boston’s mayoral race is next year, there are thousands of local and state races happening across the country. We will be voting this November for not only the president and Congressional races, but also for our state and local representatives, our ballot questions, and our future.
There are so many reasons to vote. Make your voting plan and commit to it. Visit iwillvote.com to check your registration status and to learn more about voting. It’s time to make our voices heard.