This weekend, I picked up a coffee table book recapping the 20th century. As I browsed through its pages, I came across a small story on a woman who marched for women's right to vote. At the time, they thought that if your husband was voting, there was no reason for a woman to vote. For obviously, they would vote the same way?!? I suppose I shouldn't judge; that is the way the world was then. But I read about how badly these woman wanted the right to vote. So they could have their voices heard as individuals, with separate opinions, even from their husbands.
So I was on my high-horse yesterday. If you called me or talked to me, you may have gotten an earful on how our fore-mothers fought for the right to vote and how important it was to them and you better get out there and vote. I don't know how correct this percentage is, but I heard that only 15 percent of women actually vote. This is why those women fought and fought, so that most of us wouldn't even leave our houses or make the time to punch in a couple names.
Well, I went and voted. I stood at the voting machine and I put in most of my names. I knew most of the big names and who I wanted to vote for. But then a huge list of judges came up, and I was supposed to say whether they should be voted off as judges or retained. I didn't know any of them. I reasoned that it's sad for someone to lose their job, so I voted to keep them all. All the while, wondering what I was actually voting for.
Then I came down off my high horse. Yes, I'm standing here voting, but what's the point of doing it if I don't really know what I'm voting for? Am I actually helping anything? Would this make my fore-mothers proud? No.
As I left the middle school, I hung my head and stuck the "I voted" sticker onto my shirt and thought that next time I have to do my homework first.
