Poli Sigh is a weekly column featuring an analysis of issues in the upcoming election that matter to us as students, accompanied by the personal impact of these issues on the author as a Northwestern student.
As I stepped into Parkes Hall on Nov. 6, I was flooded with flashbacks of elections past. During the 2000 election, my little brother and I stepped into the voting booth with my mom, and the three of us pulled on the big, heavy lever. Four years later, I went with my mom again to cast her vote, this time pulling the lever all on my own. In 2008, I waited outside patiently as she cast her vote. I was the adolescent who felt too old to enter the voting booth accompanied, but too young to cast my own vote.
This year, I was on my own. I tried to be as responsible as I could with everything. I heard horror stories from friends about how they would not be able to vote this year. Something had gone wrong, and their first election as eligible voters had turned into disappointment. Some of their absentee ballots hadn’t arrived on time or they sent their ballot to the wrong address. Some realized they hadn’t registered to vote after all. In response to these stories, I emphasized how angry I would be if something went wrong for me.
All this year, I have been a living, breathing advertisement for first-time voting. I registered students on campus earlier this year and frequently answered voter registration questions for my friends. I even wrote weekly tirades against the apathetic and misinformed. It would be beyond ironic if I was barred from voting, which made me all the more afraid.
Fortunately, voting for the first time ran smoothly. I felt strangely independent the whole time. The system was easy enough for me to understand, and the whole process was pretty undignified. I pressed a few buttons and it was done. There was no ultimate pulling of the lever. In fact, there was barely any physical manifestation of my vote. Regardless, I felt empowered. I pasted the complimentary “I Voted!” sticker on my phone with pride.
Voting in my first election confirmed that I was an independent adult. As a college student who struggles to complete a load of laundry, this feeling of self-sufficiency was strange. But it only intensified later that evening when I headed down to McCormick Place to celebrate with thousands of other supporters. I felt incredibly invested in this election, and in the lives of these other supporters. As we watched the returns together, we were able to see the impact of the millions of electronic ballots cast across the country. Voting was hands on and empowering, but it was nothing compared to celebrating in a sea of constituents.
While my vote was cast on a screen, my election night was spent dancing to Motown with strangers. We swapped stories about why we voted and why we cared. We passed around a bottle of water to combat our dehydration. We cheered and we cried. This culminated in watching our President elect speaking to us. I don’t think politics could get any more personal than this.
My unforgettable election day experience truly reaffirmed my faith in the American people. The first-time and veteran voters in McCormick Place were able to come together that night and learn from each other. I'm excited for the next four years because I know it's something we achieved collectively, and am so happy to have done my part.