Dear Sweethearts,
I understand you weren’t exactly excited about our trip to the cemetery last Tuesday. You were hungry (next time, we definitely should grab a bite at Tim Horton’s first—my apologies for that). You were also upset about missing some of your school classes and frustrated by the wait.
Regardless, I truly appreciate you joining me, even if it wasn’t how you envisioned spending your morning. I realize you might not yet grasp the importance of voting. Honestly, sometimes I struggle with it too. It’s easy to forget that not everyone in the world has this right, even though we should be grateful for it. I can see why visiting a gravestone didn’t exactly thrill you.
However, I believe that one day, you’ll find deeper meaning in this experience.
As you grow and explore the world, meet diverse individuals, and gain knowledge, you’ll live the lessons that you’ve only heard about in textbooks. You’ll witness the different treatment of people based on their race. Given that you are biracial, you may even encounter it firsthand. You’ll observe the challenges faced by LGBTQ+ individuals, and you may see those with disabilities being treated unfairly. It can be heartbreaking to recognize the injustices that exist, and I want you to be prepared for that reality.
Your dad and I strive to provide you with a broader perspective, whether through volunteering at shelters, participating in Pride parades, or having ongoing conversations about race and equality.
I didn’t fully understand these issues until much later in life, and I hope to give you a head start. There may be moments when you look back and groan at our efforts (let’s be honest, that’s probably going to happen). But I also hope you’ll come to appreciate why these moments were significant to me.
Now, why did I take you to vote and then wait in line to see Susan B. Anthony’s gravestone on election day? I know you rolled your eyes, but I did it because I wanted you to experience this journey. I have full faith that you will face challenges simply because you are women. Every woman I know has experienced harassment or been underestimated because of her gender.
When those moments arise, I want you to remember our outing. Recall how you asked if you could wear a pantsuit in honor of Hillary Clinton and how thrilled you were to don the blazers I found at the thrift shop. I want you to remember the excitement you felt at the thought of a woman possibly becoming president.
Think back to the smiles exchanged with other women in their pantsuits at the polling station, a sisterhood moment we shared. Remember the lady who ran past us in line, joyfully shouting “High fives, everyone!” as we all laughed and responded. Picture the stunning autumn day, the vibrant red leaves, and that palpable energy in the air. And yes, I know you’ll recall the amusing name “Mary Smyles Butts” on one of the gravestones.
I want you to remember how we let the woman with a walker go ahead of us, even after a long wait, because that’s what we do for each other—support, uplift, and cheer one another on. Remember the woman ahead of us who held a beautiful bouquet of white flowers. When she reached Susan’s grave, only three blooms remained, as she had generously shared the rest with those around her, including you and me.
I hope you’ll remember skipping back down the cobbled path, whispering, “Do you really think she can do it?” And let’s not forget that our support for Secretary Clinton wasn’t solely based on her gender; we had numerous reasons for our choice. Still, the fact that a woman could get this close to the presidency is a testament to the efforts of women like Susan B. Anthony, and we owe her our gratitude for the hope she inspired.
So, why did I take you to the cemetery? It was to honor the women who paved the way for you. I wanted you to gain a better understanding of our past, which I hope empowers your future.
More importantly, I wanted you to believe—not just in a Hillary Clinton presidency but in yourselves as women. When self-doubt creeps in because of your gender or when you face disrespect, I want you to remember that long line of people, high-fiving and sharing flowers, all coming together to honor a woman who risked everything for our right to speak up.
Although Hillary didn’t win, the fact that she made it this far is incredible. If a woman can come this close to the presidency, it means you can achieve anything you set your hearts on. That’s a victory worth celebrating, no matter the outcome.
Yes, I’m heartbroken that you, my brave and intelligent daughters, still live in a world without a female president. But every day, we see it: Women are courageous. Women are strong. Women support one another. Susan and Hillary didn’t give up, and neither will we. If not now, then someday soon. We’ll continue to fight for that future together.
I brought you to the cemetery so you may remember that one woman can change the world. Her name is Susan. Her name is Hillary. And her name is yours too.
With all my love,
Mama
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Summary:
In a heartfelt letter, a mother reflects on taking her daughters to visit Susan B. Anthony’s grave on election day. Despite their initial reluctance, she hopes the experience will instill in them an appreciation for women’s rights and the struggles faced by women throughout history. She emphasizes the importance of believing in themselves as women and learning to support one another in the face of societal challenges. The mother expresses her desire for her daughters to carry forward the legacy of strong women like Susan B. Anthony and Hillary Clinton, encouraging them to strive for their dreams.