My journey to the polls
I didn’t know the difference between a Democrat and a Republican until I was 14. My parents never talked about politics and probably voted every once in a while. I didn’t watch the news or talk about elections with my friends. But by 15, I stood firm in specific political beliefs.
I can’t lay a finger on the very thing that caused my worldview to shift so fast. It was probably a mix of social media, meeting new people in high school and the sudden turmoil of the 2016 election. Marquette University sophomore Maggie Sullivan had a similar experience to me.
“The last presidential election was when (young people) actually started to care and to see the effect of voting,” Sullivan said. For me, that couldn’t be more true.
I was furious I couldn’t vote in that election. As a 16-year-old junior, I clicked through Instagram stories of the seniors in my high school collecting their “I voted” stickers while stuck in the prison of my youth. Did they vote for the same candidate I would have? Could their votes be enough to give my generation a voice?
I didn’t turn 18 until summer 2018. But that spring, I knew I could vote in the Illinois primary at 17 because I would be 18 by the November election. I made my dad take me with him to our local polling station to vote in the midterm primaries. If I’m being honest, it was a messy afternoon — I forgot to memorize my social security number and held up the line to call my mom at home and have her read it to me. I wasn’t particularly passionate about any candidate, and I think I ended up voting for the candidate my friend’s older brother worked for. It was a strange experience, but I was so excited to fill out that little bubble.
Flash forward to fall 2018, the first time I felt like a real, politically active citizen exercising one of her most important rights. I was 18, finally a legal adult, and living on my own at college in a new city and state. As the November election neared, I used the flyer hanging on the door of my dorm room to figure out how to register to vote at my new address. I got a special voter ID and began researching candidates.
The Tuesday came, and it was busy. I had to wake up early to get to the polls before classes and production night for the student newspaper. I confidently walked to the library across the street from my dorm and waited in the short line with adults that seemed to talk in hushed voices. Finally, I stepped into the small booth and filled out my ballot. Once all the bubbles were filled in, I placed the paper in the machine and received one of those little stickers I had wanted so badly since 2016.
The sticker stayed on my chest all day, and I think I stood a little taller and walked a little stronger, eager to show off the American flag and the short, simple, powerful phrase: “I voted.” I posted a picture of it on my Instagram story, finally becoming the young, political woman I had wanted to be for so long.
I voted. I voted along with 50% of eligible American college students in a historically high turnout election. I voted along with 55% of American women, and for that I have to thank the women of only a mere 100 years ago. I voted along with 120 million Americans. For all this, I am thankful.
I fell asleep that night refreshing the New York Times to track the live numbers of the Wisconsin turnout. I woke up knowing I made a difference.
