Poli Sigh is a weekly column featuring a statistical 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.
Like many of my fellow Americans, I have been a virtual participant in the 2012 election. I have read articles on my computer, received incessant campaign donation emails and watched coverage on TV. The race has been chronicled through my screen.
While the screen may personalize and filter information for many, it left me listless and confused. Online participation is indirect and overwhelming. Ironically enough, being so close to such a plethora of information made everything seem so far away. As a first-time voter, I felt alienated and polarized. I never considered not voting an option, but I never thought about why voting was so important for me until I canvassed in Wisconsin.
Canvassing, the archaic act of going door to door to get out the vote, was a distant concept to me. I am so used to relying on my screen as the ultimate intermediary that face-to-face interactions seemed a bit intimidating. After twelve hours of campaigning, I realize it is all we have left.
The people I met today on the road to Wisconsin were awe-inspiring. People from all walks of life convened in a Wrigleyville parking lot hopeful and pining for human interaction. There was not a quiet moment on the three-hour bus ride to Madison, volunteers were chatting away. This only continued once we arrived at our stations. Everyone was truly curious about each other and how they could help.
The prospect of knocking on strangers’ doors frightened me. As we drove around Madison’s quiet residential streets, I silently prayed that nobody would be home, that I could just anonymously slip pamphlets under doorsteps. Soon enough, I grew to crave conversations, however brief they may be. Almost everyone was supportive and grateful. They said the work I was doing would make all the difference.
Meeting the volunteers and voters today irrevocably changed my perspective on this race. So often we hear “ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” Yet we remain paralyzed, preoccupied. We get consumed with the notion that this election is about us as individuals, but it is really about us as a nation.
Before I planned to vote for myself. Not only was voting a right of passage, but it was a way I could take stock in my future. After realizing the impact my service had on others, I realize I am really voting for everyone. I am voting for my neighbors, my friends, the people I met today while canvassing, and the people I will never meet in my life. Our country is counting on my vote.
A single vote may seem insignificant, but it holds a lot of weight. My trips from door to door taught me that the votes of others are just as important. I am not the only one voting, despite what the subject line on campaign emails may say. If we as a nation are able to vote collectively in such a polarized environment, I am confident we will make the right choice.
Consider this a plea from an anxious first-time voter. Your vote will matter, so vote wisely. Think about the people you will never get to meet, but will still be affected by your choice. They will never be able to thank you, and will never know you voted for them. But isn’t democracy supposed to be a government for the people, by the people?
The wonderful part of canvassing is meeting the people who you get to help. It’s refreshing to see faces instead of numbers on a screen, to have banter instead of endless Twitter threads. Please excuse the irony of this virtual post, turn of your computer and be powerful. Our country needs us.