This wasn’t my first time in a voting booth. In fact, I had been behind the curtain countless times before. My mother, determined to turn her offspring into a civic warrior, brought me along practically every election — even through high school. But this time, the training wheels were off and I was on my own.
I have a vivid memory of trying to rally my peers to join together to do something about political corruption — in elementary school. My nurtured passion for civics may not have made me the cool kid, but I had the last laugh when the presidential election coincided with my 18th year of life.
It was a few short months after I moved to Philly, a city I had spent my adolescence admiring for being the birthplace of American democracy. My voting district was smack dab in the middle of it all in Center City. I donned my subtly patriotic red, white and blues to add a little festiveness to this monumental moment. Then, I got in line with all the other grown-ups, surprised to find a disappointingly low number of other themed outfits for the occasion.
Voting still gives me these warm and fuzzy feelings. Every. Election.
When I made it to the booth, I paused for a moment to reflect on my great-grandmother, who passed away a year prior. She was born before women got the right to vote, and now, decades later, her granddaughter cast her vote proudly. Then, I did it: I voted, slapped on a coveted “I Voted” sticker on my shirt like a badge of honor, stepped outside of my polling place, and gazed at City Hall, a few blocks away.
Now this is just too poetic, I thought. My first vote was cast in the city where democracy was born, and here I am staring eye-to-eye with its political hub. Some of the people I get to vote for will work there, I mused. Democracy isn’t just some sort of nebulous concept I fantasize about anymore. Democracy is my neighbor.
Voting still gives me these warm and fuzzy feelings. Every. Election. My “I Voted” stickers fade on random surfaces throughout my apartment. I can’t seem to throw them out. And while I don’t show up to the polls serving American flag realness anymore, I still show up with that same pride and enthusiasm I had when I first voted. I can’t imagine it will ever fade. How lucky am I that I get a say in how our nation operates?
Voting for the first time is a big deal; to some, like me, it remains so. Just ask author and playwright Lorene Cary, who’s so passionate about getting first-time voters to vote — especially young people — that she founded Vote that Jawn, a voter registration and get-out-the-vote org for Philadelphia youth. Cary says:
We need America’s young people voting. The U.S. does; other countries do; the planet, and our flora and fauna. It’s like teaching them how to drive. We need them driving on our political highways, with their great reflexes, good eyesight, and XXL passion and intelligence. Or else. Seriously. Or else.
In the video below, both prominent and everyday Philadelphians recall their first times … voting. Enjoy. And vote!
