Dear girls,
I know our trip to the cemetery on Tuesday wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. You were starving (Tim Horton’s would’ve been a smart pit stop beforehand; my bad). You were grumbling about missing classes, and let’s not even mention the waiting.
But I truly appreciate you coming along, even if you didn’t see the point. I get it—understanding the historical weight of voting can be a stretch, especially at your age. Honestly, I sometimes forget just how precious that right is too. Voting is a privilege not enjoyed by everyone around the world, and yet, there I was, asking you to stand in line to see Susan B. Anthony’s gravestone. I realize that might not have been high on your to-do list.
But one day, I believe it will resonate with you.
As you grow, travel, and meet diverse people, you’ll come face-to-face with the lessons you’ve only skimmed over in school. You’ll witness firsthand the disparities faced by people of color, and being biracial, you may even experience it yourself. You’ll see the mistreatment of LGBTQ individuals, and those with disabilities facing ridicule. The harsh realities of the world can be staggering, and they may shatter your heart.
I know you don’t grasp all of this yet, which is why your dad and I strive to provide you with a broader perspective. We volunteer, participate in Pride parades, and discuss race issues. I didn’t really comprehend these matters until later in life, and I hope to give you a head start. You might roll your eyes at this someday (let’s be real, that will definitely happen), but I hope you’ll also look back with some understanding of why these moments were important to me.
So, why drag you to the polls and then to Susan B. Anthony’s grave on election day? You voiced your irritation, but I did it anyway. You see, I am confident that you will encounter challenges, obstacles, and prejudice simply because you are women. You will, like every woman I know, face harassment, belittlement, or at the very least, be underestimated because of your gender.
When that happens, I want you to remember that day. I want you to recall asking if you could wear a pantsuit in honor of Hillary Clinton and how excited you were about those blazers I found at the thrift store (I know, finding pantsuits for your age group is tricky!). I want you to remember how you jumped out of bed, thrilled at the thought of a woman running for president.
Remember the camaraderie we shared with other women in pantsuits at the polling place, like members of a secret society. Picture the woman who sprinted past us in line, hand raised high, shouting “High fives, everyone!” and how we all giggled and reached for her. Remember the stunning autumn day, the vibrant red leaves, and the buzz in the air. (I also know you’ll chuckle at the name Mary Smyles Butts on a nearby gravestone!)
I want you to remember that we let a woman with a walker cut in front of us, even after waiting our turn. We did it because that’s what women do—we support and lift each other up. Think of the woman in front of us who stood for over an hour holding a bouquet of white flowers. When she finally reached Susan’s headstone, she had only three blooms left because she had shared the rest with those around her, including you and me.
As we strolled back down the cobblestone path, whispering, “Do you really think she can do it?” I want you to remember this moment. And yes, while we didn’t solely want Hillary Clinton as president because she’s a woman, her candidacy is thrilling. The fact that a woman could come this far is thanks to trailblazers like Susan B. Anthony, and we owe her our appreciation for the hope she represents.
In short, I took you to the cemetery to honor the women who paved the way for you. I wanted you to grasp our past, which I hope will illuminate your future. More importantly, I took you so you would believe—not just in a potential Hillary Clinton presidency, but in yourselves as women. I want you to remember that when someone tells you “you can’t” because of your gender, you will recall that long line of people sharing high-fives and flowers, all in tribute to a woman who risked everything for our voices to be heard.
Although Hillary didn’t become president, the fact that she made it this far is incredible. If a woman can come this close to the presidency, then you, my dear daughters, can achieve anything you dream. And that’s worth celebrating, no matter the election outcome.
Yes, I’m heartbroken that you still live in a world without a female president, but we’ve witnessed something remarkable on election day. Women are brave, strong, and supportive. Susan and Hillary didn’t give up, and neither will we. If not this year, then another—we’ll fight together to make it happen.
I brought you to the cemetery to remind you that it only takes one woman to change the world. Her name is Susan. Her name is Hillary. And yes, her name is yours too.
Love,
Mom
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In summary, the author reflects on a meaningful trip to Susan B. Anthony’s grave with her daughters, emphasizing the importance of women’s rights and the struggles they may face. By sharing this experience, she hopes to instill a sense of awareness and empowerment in her daughters, inspiring them to believe in themselves and their potential.