Today, I donned my pantsuit and cast my vote, an act infused with the memories of my family. I voted in memory of my grandfather, who, after becoming a minister in the 1930s, traveled the globe not to impose beliefs but to understand the perspectives of others. My vote also honored my grandmother, who, despite her uncle’s reluctance to support her education, was able to attend college due to her father’s will. Although she aspired to be an engineer and faced institutional barriers, she pursued mathematics, ultimately becoming a dedicated teacher and administrator, inspiring countless students to embrace math and science.
I cast my vote for my mother, who balanced the demands of raising two children while earning her Ph.D. She instilled in us the importance of critical thinking and standing our ground. My father, always supportive, championed my mother’s career and made it clear that she was his equal partner, not just his assistant. He encouraged my sisters and me to dream big—if we had aimed for the presidency, he would have been our staunchest supporter.
My vote represented my husband, a first-generation immigrant, who also supported Hillary. It was for my mixed-race children—my daughter, who stood up for her beliefs against a friend’s misinformation, and my son, who proudly embraces his long hair, not bothered by being perceived as feminine, recognizing that girls are just as amazing.
Ultimately, I voted for myself, for love, and for the collective future we all share. This act was a testament to the values my family instilled in me, echoing through generations.
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In summary, my vote was a tribute to my family’s legacy of strength, learning, and perseverance. Each name and story woven into this experience serves as a reminder of the importance of participating in our democracy, not just for ourselves, but for future generations.