Super torn
I stood looking down at the names on my ballot for almost ten minutes before pressing my pen to the paper, hard, where I made small but determined circular motions with my hand as I filled in the bubble. I folded my ballot in half, tucked it into the envelope, licked and sealed it and then slipped it into the cardboard receptacle. I walked across the treated concrete floors of the new library and through the sliding glass doors into the late afternoon sunlight. I reached my left hand around to retrieve my car keys from my back pocket and grabbed them by my new key chain, a tag emblazoned with the familiar “Wonder Woman” script, a reminder that moments ago, I chose not to vote for one.
I felt really low about that. I think Hilary Clinton would make a great president. There are things about her that I don’t like—same for Obama—and she’s really pissed me off over the past seven years, but still. She is as qualified, if not more so, than any of the other candidates. And I’d love to vote for her to say, HELL YES she’s presidential material and HELL NO, I don’t buy the ugly rhetoric that dogs her. But I simply don’t think she’s electable.
Tonight, as I’m watching the news coverage and speeches, I’m feeling much better about my choice. And who knows? I may have a chance to vote for her in the near future. For now, I’m basking in the excitement of being present and accounted for and in the thrill of being a participant in a moment so historic.
11 Comments