Today, I donned my favorite pantsuit and headed to the polls. I cast my vote in memory of my grandfather, a minister from the ’30s who traveled the globe not to preach, but to understand diverse beliefs. I also voted for my grandmother, who aspired to be an engineer but was pushed into mathematics due to university restrictions. Undeterred, she became a teacher and administrator, empowering countless students to pursue their passions in math and science.
I voted for my mother, who earned her Ph.D. while juggling the demands of raising two children, instilling in us the importance of critical thinking and standing our ground. My father, the ultimate supporter, made sure no one ever mistook my mother’s role as anything less than equal. He believed in us wholeheartedly, even to the point of encouraging us to aim for the presidency if we wanted.
I cast my ballot for my husband, a first-generation immigrant, and for my children of mixed heritage. I voted for my daughter, who initially seemed indifferent to the election until she confidently challenged a friend’s misguided Trump opinions. And for my son, who proudly sports long hair and embraces being mistaken for a girl because—let’s be real—girls are fantastic too.
I voted for myself, for love, for a better world, and for each one of you.
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In summary, my vote was a tribute to my family’s legacy of resilience, education, and support. It was an affirmation of love and a hopeful step toward a brighter future for all.