The Quiet Defiance of a Queer Refugee’s Pilgrimage to the Polls
Frances Means ‘One Who is Free’
The alarm sounded, first at a distance, then approaching closer and closer. Finally, Frances took a deep breath as if teleporting into reality. Frances’ eyes opened. Outside the window, the leaves on a nearby tree shone their reddish-orange hues proudly in the early morning light. Remembering why the alarm was earlier than usual, Frances got up into the frigid air away from the warm covers and took a hot shower.
Today was the day.
Frances wiped the fog from the mirror, admiring how the vanity lights illuminated their black skin. Then their eyes found themselves in the reflection. Their gaze was deep. Today was their promise to those they had loved and lost — to honor their joy and fight for the right to simply exist.
Gripping the worn handle of the front door, Frances gave it a gentle push, but it resisted with a stubborn creak, catching on its frame. Nudging it back to sit properly on its old, tired hinges, and with a little persistence, the barrier finally yielded, opening with a low groan. Frances crossed the threshold into the autumn air.
The Human Rights Campaign recently reported that over 95% of LGBTQ+ voters are registered to vote and that this percentage is consistent across…
