In today’s political climate, simply uttering the phrase “I’m voting for Donald Trump” can be automatic fighting words. However, despite my inability to land a single punch, I planned to cast my ballot for Donald J. Trump until July.
This entire election season, Democratic politicians have been quick to warn voters that a vote for a third-party candidate over Joe Biden is a vote for Trump. I personally thought this rhetoric was a form of voter shaming and paid it no mind. Frankly, there is very little difference in ideology between America’s two dominant political parties, and a vote for either candidate was still voting for an elderly white man with a history of racism.
When my preferred candidate ended their presidential campaign a few weeks after the senseless deaths of Breonna Taylor and Ahmad Arbery, I was infuriated and dejected. Since the coronavirus pandemic already had me in a mindset of habitual loneliness and disillusion, it felt like the worst year of my life had somehow gotten even worse. As a Black woman and a journalist, staying on top of our political reality is often torturous, particularly when our news cycle turns towards racial inequality and bigotry.
Times of hardship and distress is when you are most impressionable. The disastrous combination of coronavirus-related isolation measures and the pervasive toxicity of racism had me perfectly disillusioned with America’s political process. Quite frankly, I wanted to scream into a dark void and, if time permits, burn everything in sight down. As a staunch defender of survivors, I could not fathom voting for someone who has a history of inappropriately touching young women.
I could not fathom voting for a man who opposed busing as a means of desegregation, and who co-sponsored the 1994 crime bill that intentionally targeted Black Americans through disproportionate drug sentencing. While it is easy to accept Biden’s apologies for these stances and leave the past in the past, apologies and repentance has done nothing to improve life for my grandparents who received lower-quality educations at segregated schools. Apologies and repentance have not freed those wrongfully incarcerated, nor has it replenished the lost wealth of the families who have lost a source of income due to incarceration.
Originally, I was going to vote for a third-party presidential candidate because of them. I was going to vote third-party for the opportunities my grandfather should have been guaranteed, and for the countless holidays these families couldn’t spend together. I was voting independent for every American who has gone hungry under the rule of our current two parties. So I made the choice to put my big girl panties on and go against the establishment. I had thought I was being unapologetic like the revolutionary Angela Davis, steadfast and loyal to my ideals.
Then, in late June, I watched a video of Donald Trump falsely claiming that the coronavirus pandemic was going away, and case counts were decreasing while cases across the country were surging. I have been watching Trump make false claims since he started his presidential campaign in 2016, but never have I ever been more disgusted by someone till that moment. For me to personally know an American killed by COVID-19 and to hear the president of this country claim that this virus is no different than the flu broke my brain.
I’m not trying to persuade anyone to vote because doing so will solve all of America’s problems with discrimination and prejudice. Only direct action, meaningful conversations and grassroots organizing can do that. Politics and Washington often feel like far-off concepts that have little to do with us, ordinary Americans. However, politicians do shape every aspect of our lives in different ways, from our abilities to control our bodies to how much we pay for gas.
So, in mid-July, I did the thing that separates a woman from a girl. I made the official decision to vote for Biden, despite my many reservations. Apologies and repentance won’t fix the holes in struggling Americans’ lives, but neither will another four years of Donald Trump. So last month, I meticulously filled out my absentee ballot and returned it to USPS. And you know what? I did so with a small smile on my face.
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