I could’ve voted by mail or voted early in the morning but instead I left work early yesterday so that I can take my sons with me to the polls.
A naturalized American citizen, I voted in a presidential election for the first time in 2004. Sure, it was a big deal, in the yay-I-finally-have-the-right-to-vote kind of way, but not big enough of a deal to drag my children out in the cold. I’d also have to admit that I was voting out of anger at the current president for things my children were too young to comprehend at the time.
But yesterday was different. As important as voting was to me, it was more important that my sons were there with me.
We went over the names in the ballot. I didn’t want to emphasize race or gender so I didn’t even mention it to them, but as I read the names to my children, I knew how historic that moment was. Among the names we read were those of an African-American man and a woman.
We voted for Obama.
We went over the propositions and bond measures. Roads and bridges, improvements to schools…they don’t just come out of thin air. Mommy has to pay for them. I voted yes on a few.
We went over Proposition 8. I’d have to admit, it was difficult to talk about homosexuality to my 7 and 8-year-old sons without one of them cracking a joke. One of them said “it’s weird for two guys to be together as a couple.” I agreed, yes, they might find that weird because we don’t know a lot of gay couples, but it’s not for us to decide who people can love and get married to. We voted no.
Below: my 8-year-old son Jacob and myself, behind the booth. Photo courtesy of my 7-year-old son David.
