The atmosphere buzzed with discussions about the upcoming election as I sat in a makeshift calling center. Plastic tables were scattered throughout the storage room, creating a lively hub of activity. Voices merged into a chaotic symphony of opinions on critical issues, reminiscent of a group sing-along where everyone starts and finishes at different times. The aroma of pepperoni and sausage wafted through the air, the grease-stained boxes piled up like a feast for the engaged volunteers. Campaign workers exchanged stories, trying to outshine one another with their experiences connecting with voters. My notes lay beside my phone, outlining the script for my calls. I was ready to tackle questions on health care, education, and job creation. But I wasn’t ready for the surprising comments I encountered, which unfortunately, weren’t isolated.
“My husband tells me how to vote,” one woman said. I assumed it would be tougher for women to admit this to another woman, but I heard the same indifferent statement more than once.
“My husband tells me how to vote.”
These women had no distinct characteristics; their only commonality was their willingness to allow their husbands to dictate their political choices, from party affiliation to candidate selection, and even the issues they deemed important.
Reflecting on these conversations, I wish I had taken the time to ask these women about their choice to relinquish their voting rights. I couldn’t fathom it. Instead, I paused, thanked them, and moved on to the next call. My mother always took me to vote, and we talked openly about politics and our beliefs. I’m raising my children to appreciate the significance of decisions that affect not only our family but also our community and the world. So, it was bewildering to see such a life-altering decision handed over to their husbands as if it had no significance.
Voting is a privilege and a responsibility that many fought valiantly for, often at great personal cost. My vote is mine, and mine alone.
Whenever you feel tempted to silence your voice, skip a chance to vote, or worse, let your partner influence your choice at the polls, remember the women who sacrificed so you could cast your ballot on election day.
It’s unfortunate we have to remind ourselves, but perhaps we should wear bracelets that say, “What Would Susan B. Anthony Do?” She was a leader of the suffragist movement alongside Elizabeth Cady Stanton, tirelessly working to secure women’s right to vote. You might recognize Anthony’s image on a dollar coin; she was even arrested for attempting to vote!
On election day, we should honor the women who fought for our right to have our own voices, political identities, and the ability to vote for candidates who represent issues that matter to us. We must not allow our partners—or anyone else—to dictate our voting choices.
It is our right and responsibility to stay informed, to research, and to determine where we stand on critical issues. We have the right and duty to engage in conversations about the election. And most importantly, we have the right and duty to vote.
On election day, we returned home from school and work, packed into our car, and headed to the polling place. My partner and I each received our own ballots, standing in separate booths, shielded from each other’s decisions. Our children darted between our spaces. My daughter, tall enough to peek over the booth, noted, “Dad voted for that one, Mom.” I looked her in the eye and stated firmly, “This is Mommy’s vote. Mommy decides who to vote for today.” (That’s exactly what Susan B. Anthony would do.)