The Husky Fest was in full swing as Diane, Lori and I milled around the various booths. One in particular caught my attention, and I stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Diane asked.
“Well, I just, never mind.” I had learned long ago to hide my oh-so-shameful secret. Intrigued (or so I’d like to think) they turned to face me.
“Well, you can register to vote over there,” I pointed to the booth of interest.
“You’re not registered to vote?” They looked at me, shocked, and rightfully so.
Squirming under their disbelieving gazes, I flashed my very best sheepish grin.
“No, but I plan on it,” I promised. They grabbed my arm and led me over to the table.
“Um, hi. I need to, uh, register to vote?” Due to the embarrassment that I was obviously of voting age (in an effort to not publicly age myself, I will merely explain that I was indeed able to vote the last Presidential election), this came out as more of a question than the intended admission. I was also secretly terrified that the woman behind the booth would stand and begin to heckle me in disgust. She instead smiled warmly as she handed me a small card, and instructed me to fill it out.
“This is it?” I asked, turning over the shockingly simple form.
“That’s it,” she replied. Hmm. As I stood there answering the basic questions prompted by the registration card, I silently asked myself a question of my own: why on Earth hadn’t I done this sooner?
I suppose there are a few answers to this query, all of which would cause many of you to throw your vote-experienced hands up in exasperation. The first being that I felt my vote wouldn’t account for anything, that it was pointless. Now, I learned in kindergarten that this mentality is dangerous in regard to many things, recycling specifically. I recall sitting in awe as the “reduce, reuse, recycle!’ mascot hopped about and assured us that our part helped, and was indeed necessary, because if everyone thought their little piece wouldn’t make an impact, then nothing would get recycled. So why couldn’t I conjure up this basic lesson when it came to such an adult act as voting? Well, in addition to not feeling like my vote would matter (and here’s where it becomes contradictory, and in hindsight, ridiculous) I also thought that as I was uninformed about the issues, it would be irresponsible to vote “blindly”, so to speak. I look back now on the poorly constructed rationalization of my 18-year old self (oops, I suppose I just aged myself anyway) and sigh. Why didn’t I recognize that the remedy of this would have been actually becoming an aware, even marginally informed human being, as opposed to simply copping out and walking away altogether?
The answer (and most likely the root of it all) is this dirty six-letter word: apathy. And why was I apathetic? I believe Mr. Georg Christoph Lichtenberg said it perfectly, so I’ll let him: “…nothing is more conducive to peace of mind than not having any opinion at all…” And this is exactly, to a sad, sad, T, the underlying issue involved with my lack of voting history: I didn’t want to take responsibility for any poor choices my chosen candidate might make. That way, I could shrug my shoulders and say “I didn’t vote for them, it’s not my fault”. Isn’t that frightening? But it’s the truth, and I suspect it is the case for the scores of people who don’t vote, though perhaps not in those words, certainly a result of some form of apathy.
I know for myself, I have always thought of voting as a right, not a responsibility. This view has lessened over the last few years, as has my apathy, yet the other night, any remnants of this opinion were extinguished entirely. I watched “Iron Jawed Angels”, a film that tells the story of the women suffragists who were imprisoned and tortured for picketing President Woodrow Wilson for the right to vote. I highly suggest that any woman entertaining the notion of not voting watches it. The reality of what these women had to go through to get us this “right” that I took for granted is both humbling and awe inspiring. This coupled with my increasing knowledge of current events (thanks in large part to Professor Greene) has led me to firmly believe that the choice of whether or not to vote no longer exists. For me it is now a responsibility, as is obtaining the necessary information in order to do so to the best of my ability.
So, this Tuesday for the first time in history, I will slip into a voting booth, pull the curtain, and cast my presidential vote. And if you need another reason to join me, remember this: there is no accessory more unflattering than apathy. I’ll see you there.