Voting for the First Time at the Worst Time
Somewhere in the dream we had an epiphany. Now we right the wrongs in history. ~ “Glory” by Common
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Last May, my husband and I became American citizens. We had put it off for years, preferring to be proud Canadians with green cards. But last year, we made the decision to raise our right hand and pledge allegiance to the flag.
Why? I often get asked this question by my Canadian friends and family. We have lived in the US since 2002. During that time we received graduate degrees, paid taxes, bought homes and cars, and had children. But we didn’t have a say in this democracy. It became increasingly frustrating to feel like we were giving and receiving a lot from this country, but still could not vote. It was our own “taxation without representation.”
We’ve now officially been Americans (well, dual citizens) for more than a year...and what a year it has been.
COVID-19 kicked us all to the curb, or rather locked us in our houses, and that really only applies to the ones lucky enough to avoid contracting the virus. President Donald Trump continued his questionable leadership, which included diminishing the severity of the virus. Everything shut down. Schools closed - many schools (like my kids’) have not yet reopened. Hardworking teachers are attempting online instruction, but the result is often lackluster leaving many parents suddenly required to play the role of frustrated tutors. Protests erupted with cries of “reopen the economy” and the Karen-esque “I need a haircut.” So far, more than 215,000 Americans have died from the virus, and the worldwide death count exceeds one million.
Then viral videos and news stories surfaced, shocking us with scenes of blatant and often violent racism. Overdue conversations about racial inequality began around dinner tables, and “Black Lives Matter” marches gained traction in communities around the world. Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd and Elijah McClain became household names. Breonna Taylor’s story and the subsequent lack of justice are incomprehensible to me. I have never felt sadder about the state of our country than I did as I reflected on the inhumanity and mistreatment of our fellow citizens based solely on the colour of their skin.
No matter where you live, racism exists. People have deep-seated beliefs about other cultures, and stereotypes about other ethnic groups. I have experienced racism in the forms of snide remarks and tasteless jokes. I have felt lesser than simply because I am not obviously white. But this all pales in comparison to the negative, detrimental and ongoing mistreatment of the Black community in the United States.
Grappling with racial inequity and saddled with the everyday fear of an invisible and deadly virus, we were then smacked with another wave of destruction. The Western United States exploded into flames. It seemed like it happened overnight. First we heard of fires in Northern California among the beautiful redwood forests near where my family used to call home. Then the fires appeared in Oregon and Washington. A month ago, a quick Google search of “wildfires” resulted in an illustrated map of the country burning up and down the west coast.
The fires have wiped out entire towns, killed dozens and left others with nothing. The economic impact is still being tallied. Aside from scorched landscapes and charred homes, the aftermath even manifested in areas farther away from the fire zones. Apocalyptic skies startled the San Francisco Bay Area and eerily similar darkness clouded the air quality as far north as Vancouver, BC. Here in Seattle, the air quality index was close to 300 at its worse.
While the country was burning on the West, hurricanes pelted the Southeast. More devastation. More death. The weather system seemed on the fritz with parts of the country suffering sweltering days, some the hottest in history. Friends in Colorado experienced a bizarre occurrence in the month of August: a 90-degree day followed by a-30 degree day with snowfall. If this isn’t an example of climate change, I don’t know what is.
I’d be remiss to not include the notable icons who have died this year. Basketball player Kobe Bryant, actor Chadwick Bozeman, US Rep. John Lewis and Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg to name a few. Their absences felt nationwide, some even felt globally. Each time a breaking news alert shows up on my iPhone, I think “What now? Please, no more sadness.”
We are all eager for this year to wrap up in hopes that 2021 will usher in better days. But will it really? I want to believe that 2021 will be a year of growth, acceptance, wellness and prosperity. But I am also a realist, and I think that the only way we can achieve a more positive future is to put in the work needed right now.
If this year has taught me anything it’s to never take my health for granted, to never take a breath of fresh air for granted, to never take a walk in the woods for granted, to never take the freedom of going for a run without being assaulted or sleeping in my bed without being murdered for granted. It’s even the simple things, like savoring a hug from a loved one, and appreciating a smile from a (now-masked) cashier at the grocery store.
Our collective work is to guarantee these same rights and freedoms to everyone, to protect our beautiful Mother Earth, and to ensure we have more impactful people in power who will effect necessary positive change. This is why I’m grateful to have become a US Citizen...because now I have a say in perhaps the most important election of this country’s modern history.
