When I was younger, I tended to shy away from anything political. My reluctance came from a lack of understanding about how politics worked and the feeling that I wouldn’t stand a chance in a heated debate. I hadn’t really explored my own political beliefs, and while I could rattle off a few names from my party, I didn’t feel prepared to defend my views.
So, I watched election cycles pass by with minimal interest. Sure, I cast my ballot every four years during national elections, but until recently, I struggled to even explain the role of Congress, let alone support our leaders in Washington.
That all shifted for me after the tragic events at Virginia Tech.
In April 2007, 32 students were senselessly killed by a troubled peer. As I sat glued to the news like the rest of the nation, I was overwhelmed by discussions on gun laws, campus security, and mental health resources. My heart ached as I looked at the faces of the innocent victims and questioned how our society had become so fractured.
As a mother about to send my son off to kindergarten, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. Who would keep him safe from a deranged individual at school? What mental health services existed in my community? Where exactly were my tax dollars going? I was embarrassed to realize I had no answers, but I was determined to find out.
Fortuitously, a local politician was hosting a pancake breakfast meet-and-greet the following week, and I decided to attend. After arranging for a babysitter, I entered the fire hall with trepidation. Who was I to question an elected official? What right did I have to disrupt a delightful pancake gathering with my concerns about safety and guns?
I was just a mother wanting to protect her children, that’s who I was.
I was a woman confronting my fears of looking uninformed on pressing issues, yes.
And I was a citizen of a nation whose founders fought and died for my right to show up and demand accountability.
So, as I drizzled syrup on my pancakes and poured cream into my coffee at that rickety table, I listened intently. When it was my turn to speak, I felt a mix of nerves and determination. I stood up, fidgeted with my wedding rings, and scanned the room filled with ordinary people like me. I found my voice and asked the politician what steps he planned to take to protect my son in the aftermath of the Virginia Tech tragedy. At that moment, I felt a bit like Wonder Woman.
To his credit, he responded candidly. He talked about budget constraints, bureaucratic hurdles, law enforcement funding, and party disagreements. He didn’t have all the answers, but I felt heard, and that felt powerful. At the end of the breakfast, I was introduced to the local fire chief, who reassured me about the safety measures in place for our elementary schools. He even showed me the school blueprints he kept in his car and promised he would do everything in his power to protect my son.
I left that breakfast feeling fulfilled—not from the food but from a newfound sense of empowerment. That fall, I cast my first vote in a local election for that politician.
And that’s why I vote. Not to argue, not to criticize, and not to undermine others’ beliefs. I vote because it gives me a sense of control in a chaotic political landscape. When I hear political rhetoric that makes my stomach turn, I remind myself that I have a voice that can be amplified with a simple pull of a lever. I vote because my local representatives shop at the same grocery store I do. I vote because, ultimately, we’re all just people. Just like the Constitution states, we are the people.
I vote because I am no longer that timid, uncertain woman I once was.
I vote because not too long ago, women were denied the right to have their voices heard at the polls.
I vote because I stand firm in my beliefs and refuse to shrink back during political conversations.
I vote because it feels empowering when I step into that booth and cast my ballot.
Whatever it takes, whether it’s finding a babysitter, bringing the kids along, or sacrificing my lunch break, make sure you VOTE on November 8.
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In summary, voting is an empowering act that enables us to take control of our future as individuals, mothers, and citizens. It signifies our commitment to shaping our communities and ensuring our voices are heard.