I voted today. In fact, I feel very blessed about it, because it was so easy, in some ways. No lines, more volunteers than voters, and every machine in perfect working order. I felt privileged, because I know it's not like that in every district. I remember living in North Miami, where the poll workers were always great, but the machines and polling places were fewer and the lines sometimes lasted an hour or more.
My people, please understand, I won't even wait in line for Space Mountain if the number above the entrance exceeds sixty minutes, and I love Space Mountain. Hope that adds some needed context, in case any part of this rant has people thinking I don't care about voting.
My point is that I want this all to be over with. I don't want to see the tribalism any more, the twisting of figures and coloring of facts, all to prop up a beloved candidate that is clearly flawed. Just vote for who you like, who you think is best, and be honest about it. I don't remember ever feeling this much exhaustion and hopelessness over elections as I have over the last eight years, and, despite my youthful demeanor, I've been voting for a long time.
I've been voting in presidential elections since 1992, and, for those of us who remember, that was a wild year to be a first-time voter. If you had just started paying attention to national politics, as I had, you would have thought that it was perfectly normal for Yosemite Sam to jump on stage at debates and start shouting at the candidates.
I distinctly remember the 2000 elections, and I don't remember it being as terrifying as people try to make it seem when they compare that outcome to January 6, 2021. Exciting? Absolutely. It was a nail-biter, wondering if that count would ever be verified, learning all about the possible orientations of chads, and also what a chad is, exactly. But at no time did I get the sense that the fate of the democracy teetered on the edge of the cliff, the way some people talk about it. They counted, recounted, recounted the recount, went to court, and then Gore conceded and we all got on with our lives, for better or for worse.
I'm even old enough to remember John McCain, God rest him, actually defending his opponent, Barak Obama, from accusations of being a Muslim or a terrorist or whatever. That seems like a dream now, the leader of the Republican party saying positive things, and, more importantly, true things, about the Democratic candidate. It was such a different time.
I guess that's why I've always been an independent. These days, I'd say I'm even the independest of the independents, because I'm just so joining-averse that the more either side tries to force me to label myself, the more I resist signing up for either. The way I grew up voting, there was debates to watch, platforms to consider, characters to weigh, and then you made your choice. A lot of people voted straight party tickets, and I remember the church having a clear bias for conservatives and Republicans, but I don't remember being told that it was a requisite for salvation or that voting for a Democrat was a disqualifier for the kingdom.
I don't remember people talking about civil war either, unless it was in history class.
And this is what has me so exhausted. I love to hear political debate, I just hate hearing lies and attacks, especially against people I know and love. I was born and raised in South Florida, and, to me, it's a culture that I've never seen replicated anywhere else. I often say I'll never move away from here, because where else can my family go where we'll feel as safe and understood? Where else will our mix of ethnicities and languages and experiences be not only tolerated, but celebrated and loved? What kills me about the last decade of politics is what it's done to that space. I love the streets I grew up on, but it's as if the edges of our world have tightened, as if the circle of protection around us has shrunk, until it starts to feel constricting, as if one day we'll have to stand on tiptoes to stay inside the one place that feels like home.
I've been looking forward to voting for months now, partly because I really do take pride in my part in the system, but also because I've wanted this to be over for so long. And yet, even though election day is just a week away, even though in a few days all the debating will be over and only the counting should matter, I'm concerned that it won't be over, that it will flare up and boil over even more. There have been so many accusations and lies, and so many people to believe them, no matter how ridiculous they sound, that there's bound to be some unrest, regardless of how the election goes.
So here's my plea. Argue, debate, vote, and then get back to your lives. That's what I plan to do. I'm not joining any party that doesn't do the Cha-Cha Slide or the Cupid Shuffle. I'm not wearing any of your hats, I'm not buying any of your merch, and I'm not waving any of your flags, so keep me and mine out of your squabbles. I just want to nurture my family, write my stories, and love my neighbor and community with the love of Christ. If that means I have to shout sometimes about something important, about some injustice I see around me, then I'm going to do that, but I could not care less about your clubs, cliques, and cults. If you see me wearing any shirt with somebody's face on it, with red or blue coloring, with some kind of slogan or whatever, then be certain, on my mama, on my hood, it's only going to be Spider-Man.
