"...Go America! Yay Democracy! ..."
Vota! ... Nov. 2nd, 2004
Ok, it's done, I voted. The knot in my stomach has loosened, and the remaining nausea can be fully attributed to losing my job.
I've been sick to my stomach all weekend. The election is today, Tough Crowd ends on Thursday and my boyfriend's on the road. We Tough Crowders have started to pack our things. Mementos from Act 3s line my desk- the Democracy bottles, a Koran with the cigarette warning on its spine ("Warning: Martyrdom for Allah causes premature death and no birth weight"), a card from How Well Do You Know the Opposite Sex, a squiggly shape from the wall of My Favorite Regular, Colin's children's book, "The Misadventures of Kid Quinn," and lots more.
I was the only white person at my polling center this morning. The local Board of Elections never confirmed that my registration had been received, so I arrived with proof of residency, in the shape of a driver's license and a Con-Ed bill. The line around the check-in table was spiraled so that no one could tell where the beginning was. Near me was a large black woman whose name would turn out to be Cassandra. She had been standing closer to a booth than the check-in, and I thought she was waiting to vote. I handed my license to a male poll worker in his 70's, with one blue, blind eye.
"Who's next?" asked Cassandra. [subtext: You white people think you can move into my neighborhood and just jump in line.
"Sorry, I though you had already been helped," I said, taking back my license. [subtext: I never had slaves, I'm not your enemy, sweetheart.
"Oh, that's fine, it's not YOUR fault. He knows who's next," she said, shaking her head. [subtext: I understand you can't help being born a little white princess, but you're getting preferential treatment as usual and I'm sick of it.
"I thought you was finished," said the old blind man. [subtext: Don't hit me.
"No you didn't," she said. "You're working backwards. Is that how we do things now, work backwards?" [subtext: You'd rather help a white woman than a sister. Don't pull that blind shit on me. Just cause white people are moving up here don't mean you start kissing their asses.
"I'm sorry, I was-" I said. [ subtext: I have a man, I don't want to fuck your man.
"That's ok," Cassie snapped, "it's not your fault." [subtext: Shut up and enjoy your white life.
Kerry conceded, Bush won. Distress, distress!
I voted, I wash my hands of this election. If Bush wins, I promise my parents that I'll take out a life insurance policy that will cover the inevitable funeral, (or memorial service if my body is never discovered under whatever rubble will fall on it). Please use the picture from Christmas 2003 for the Missing flyer.
Go America! Yay Democracy!