Beautiful USA

Peering down the length of cardstock legal size paper, reading each name, feeling overwhelmed with responsibility, determination, intent and moral obligation, I remember how I felt nervousness with sweaty palms just 20 minutes earlier, while getting out of my car and walking up to the building. My first time to vote in a presidential election, nonetheless!

I was careful and diligent to study the stances of candidates, and to study the issues that were included on the ballot, whether it was an amendment or creation of a new state law or local jurisdiction.

I was nervous because I didn't want to ”spoil”my ballot by marking or skipping a square that needed to be marked. I also wanted to make sure all instructions were followed to result in a valid ballot.

For a brief few seconds before receiving my ballot, waiting in the short line, I felt like I was part of the country overall, like there was a club of millions of Americans across the United States, getting ready to make their voices heard, louder than any protest, louder than any rally, but as silent as the stroke of a pen.

So with the stroke of pen in hand, I proceeded to fill in the line next to my selected candidate's name one by one, until that section was completed, moving on to the state and local offices, feeling my hand cramping, but trudging on, as it began to feel like an impossible mission. I needed to make it through the amendment and question sections and not feel defeated. The pain set in how enormous this responsibility made the body feel! But it was a pain well worth it.

The pain couldn’t compare to the many cultures and minority groups who didn’t get the right to vote until the early 20th century: women’s right to vote in 1920 in the US, 1924, when Native Americans were granted full recognized citizenship, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Compared to the history of voting rights fought for by many different groups, a hand cramp was minimal.

As I struggle to complete my mission, I’m reminded with the weight of my culture, that this vote and every vote offered at the federal, state and local levels matters! My grandmother would remind me to vote as much as possible, to get my own voice, but also the voices of every Native American, heard. We don’t want to not be counted, because we didn’t speak up on the small and large issues that concern us. If we don’t speak up, we lose our tribal sovereignty. We lose our voice to treaty and lose our spot on the world stage as a sovereign nation.

The beauty of this process is that any eligible voter can vote their conscience, vote their support for a candidate, and measures to better their communities.