On Being Disenfranchised

A Pict in PA

My youngest son’s preschool is serving as a polling station today.  At both drop off and pick up I was asked if I was there to vote and both times I explained that, sadly no, as an immigrant I was not entitled to vote.  This is a difficult thing for me.

My Gran was intensely, fervently, obsessively political.  She had stridently held opinions on every subject and she was politically active in trying to change the things she believed needed to be changed.  Some of my happiest childhood memories of time spent with her involve being at protests and on rallies.  I suppose, therefore, that I learned to be politically engaged at her knee.  My family taught me early on how important it was to actively participate in democracy, that to not cast a vote is to undermine the very principle of democracy, to inform yourself and to cast your vote…

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