I don’t usually get emotional about voting. In fact, up until 5 years ago, I was one of the apathetic many who didn’t believe that my vote counted for anything, so I didn’t vote at all. Four years ago, I knew that I had to vote. Even if my state wasn’t going to go the way I wanted, I had to vote so feel some power over the situation. I voted not so much for Kerry, but against Bush and his policies.
This year was so different for me. Sure, I was voting against Bush and his polices, which I really believe McCain would have brought to the presidency. But more than that, I was voting for Obama. I believe in Obama. When I listen to Obama talk, I feel inspired. I get that knot in my throat, butterflies in my stomach. Prior to this, I had NEVER felt inspired by a politician. NEVER. Ever.
I’m going to honest. Race never entered the picture in my decision. I honestly think that Obama is the best person for the job at hand, and he could have been purple, for all I cared. But after I cast my ballot yesterday, I found myself getting teary-eyed leaving the polling place. For the first time in this long, drawn-out process, I finally realized how historic it was that I got to vote for an African American for president. For the first time in a very long time, I was proud of my country.
And I get to say that I was there. I was there when the United States elected its first African American president. I was there for a truly historic event. I was there.
