There was something exhilarating about voting for the first time. Even though the literal extent of my (absentee) voting action was marking boxes on a piece of paper and putting it in the mail, it felt meaningful.
By expressing my choice, I was consciously exercising a right I had never been able to use before. I could finally tell those people posted all around the Pit, “Yes, I have voted,” instead of, “No, I can’t vote yet.”
At the same time, the voting process was more than simply sending a letter. I decided that if I was going to be doing this for the first time, I was going to do it right.
I researched the platforms of candidates for positions I had never heard of and for constituencies I had never visited.
I found that in many cases, I noticed things I didn’t like about candidates’ platforms from both sides of the political spectrum, but I was still confronted with indicating my preference for one candidate or the other.
The fact that many Americans take the power of voting for granted is even reflected in our language. Consider, for example, the Russian word for “to vote” — “golosovat.” The root of this verb is “golos” or “glas” — the word for voice. It is a common linguistic root that manifests itself throughout the Slavic family of languages, including Czech (hlasovat) and Serbo-Croatian (glasati).
Even in a region like Eastern Europe, where freedom of political expression has been repressed (see Stalin, Joseph as an example) until only relatively recently, it is fascinating that the concept of voting is tied so inherently to one’s own voice.
Why does this matter so much? Well, in case you haven’t heard, there’s a big presidential election coming up in a little over a year.
Sure, it’s about 13 months away, but the dividing lines are already being drawn, the debates have already begun and the drama is kicking into high gear.
