I’ve avoided writing this piece because in doing so I am forced, in my reflection, to recognize how little I actually matter. I’m a millennial. Regardless of if I know how to spell it or not. As a millennial ,I am told, I am more likely but not guaranteed to be part of the liberal elite (fancy), I am lazy, what I care about is stupid or doesn’t concern me. (Things I care about: minimum wage, global warming, health care, civil rights.) In both cases this is the short list.
Prior to the 2016 election it would have been easier to sallow the “medicine” to “know my place”, to take arbitrary reprimanding, to do as I’m told, and not question anything because it’s being handled, but after a lot of thinking (this piece was supposed to be published last month) I decided it would be in my best interest to politely decline.
This was the first election I actively participated in. My right (one of the ones I still have) as an American born citizen, and my vote… did not count.
I’m an expat. Which means the registration process was anxiety provoking. Go to the .gov sight. Hoop. Provide your social security number. Flaming Hoop. Don’t have it memorized or carry it around it. Wait two weeks before logging back in ('cause your girls gotta life to live). Okay got everything, cool. Twerk struts. Print this. Hoop. Send it here. Hoop. Pray to god it gets where it needs to be. It didn’t, because I was never sent my absentee ballot. Print emergency ballot. Flaming Hoop. Send it through my University post specifically set up for the 2016 election. It'll get there through them I'm sure.. Hold breathe, cross fingers, pass out ,come to and realize it is still Mr.President.
I honestly don’t know if my my vote was actually counted. Weird how that works. Hoop. Flaming Hoop. Hoop. Flaming Hoop. No applause. I’m told I can look it up, but knowing wouldn’t change anything. I am registered to vote in the state of New York. A state that doesn’t get any bluer by my vote.
So here we are. In March almost April and I guess it’s something I knew deep down. Something I try to hide with a delightful smile. People told me to vote. They told me it mattered. They told me my vote mattered. They told me I mattered (juxtaposed that millennial junk).
I wanted to believe it. I really did.
Yes! Autumn you matter! You make a difference!
But the truth is I don’t. The truth is I didn’t. That’s something I knew well before the vote. For me the sad part isn’t who won or who lost, because when I voted I was not voting for a winner, I was voting for a President. The sad part, personally, is I wasted so much of my precious energy participating in a system that does not recognize me, not even when it’s supposed to, instead of enjoying my life like I should have been (that 2.50 in post should have been spent on beingets). I actively chose to fall flat on my face. Usually when I fall on my face I’m not trying. Maybe something can be said for that, for trying… to fall on my face.
I think why I’ve avoided writing this piece is because after 596 words, there is no explanation. After 596 words not one single person will be able to justify in a reasonable way why my vote didn't count and by default why I don't matter.