Electing

There is a really wonderful collection of suffrage-era advertisements right now over at Collectors Weekly. Comprised mainly of post cards, the collection is truly astounding.

I never knew a time when I could not vote. Obviously. I'm not over 92 years old. At the age of 26, I haven't been able to vote too terribly long. This year marked only my third presidential election. I am so happy that I was old enough to vote in 2008. Living in Chicago the day Barack Obama was elected president was momentous. It was a palpable joy. It felt like it mattered. Something was changing. Something was going on.

I just made the cut-off to vote for Kerry in 2004. I wasn't a huge fan of Kerry. And I was just starting to understand politics at the time. All I knew was that Bush seemed unintelligent. He seemed to want a theocracy. He seemed war-hungry. He didn't support gay rights. While Kerry didn't show overt support to my LGBT friends, no one was at the time. But a lack of outright slander of my friends would have to do for progressive politics.

In 2008, Barack Obama stood in Grant Park, on the lakeshore of my home city, and addressed his supporters. And that's when he said it: "gay and straight Americans."

...

Wow.

I cried. And though he was slow to act on policy, Obama did repeal DADT. He rescinded the Mexico City Policy just two days after taking office. He eventually came out publicly in support of gay marriage. He signed the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. He supports Planned Parenthood. When Hilary lost the nomination, he thanked her for making way for his daughters to achieve.

And while some of his talking points may just seem like so much lip service to frustrated activists, I think that lip service is important, too. While generally defined as being mere empty words, when the words are those that others are too afraid to speak, speaking them in activism. When the president of your country makes a video for the It Gets Better Project, before he even enacts any policies to back up his rhetoric, he has made an impact. When the president addresses "non-believers" in his inaugural address, those of us who do not believe choke, recalling President George Bush Sr. denying our citizenry.

My mother voted Republican her whole life, except twice. For Kennedy, and then for Obama. She had gay friends. She had gay family. She had a daughter who depended on Planned Parenthood for healthcare during a difficult time. It's difficult for people to change. I admired her ability to do so.

My mom won't be voting in this election. This thought falls under the strange "Grief Brain" that forms after a significant loss. Seemingly innocuous things seem laden with meaning. "This is the first election for president in which my mom will not vote," isn't like the anniversary of her death, her birthday, or Mother's Day. But this week I'm remembering a woman who unknowingly led me to feminism by being herself.