Democracy

I first became politically active in 1988 at the age of twenty. I joined a group in college known as The Demonstrating Democrats. We studied government and current affairs prior to the presidential election between George H.W. Bush and Michael Dukakis. Energized by youthful enthusiasm, we participated in marches and expressed our liberal Democratic perspectives to the conservative Republican populace of South Dakota. I was convinced that our modest group had the potential to influence change and usher in a progressive leader to succeed President Ronald Reagan. I was wrong.

In the spring, our passionate group embarked on a spirited journey to Cedar Rapids, Iowa, to protest a rally held by then-Vice President George H.W. Bush, the Republican frontrunner in the presidential election. Equipped with vibrant banners and an assortment of slogans, we boarded a bus for an adventure of activism. As the bus rolled along the highways, we engaged in fervent discussions about political issues, ranging from economic policies to the importance of civil rights, fueled by a sense of urgency and idealism characteristic of youth. Upon arrival, we strategically positioned ourselves outside the venue where Bush was to speak, engaging passersby and rallying support for our cause. The demonstration, marked by a mix of enthusiasm and determination, exemplified the vibrant political climate of the late 80s. We chanted and waved signs aimed at challenging the prevailing political narrative while experiencing firsthand the energy of American democracy in action. This experience left an indelible mark on my understanding of civic engagement.

In November, I marched into a voting booth for the first time to proudly cast my vote for Michael Dukakis. My vote felt like a defining moment, a chance to stand up for the principles I believed in—progressive policies, social justice, and a compassionate approach to governance. As the election unfolded, my optimism gradually transformed into a deep sense of devastation when Dukakis lost decisively. I had poured so much hope into his candidacy, convinced that change was not only possible but imminent. The sight of Bush triumphing, heavily buoyed by a campaign that often resorted to fear tactics and personal attacks, left me feeling disillusioned and frustrated. My heartfelt participation in the democratic process felt diminished, and I wrestled with the sinking feeling that my vote, along with the votes of millions who supported Dukakis, held little weight in the grand scheme of politics. That experience taught me a harsh lesson about the often-unpredictable nature of elections and the overwhelming forces—both of ideology and media—at play, but it also ignited a fire within me to remain engaged and active, no matter how daunting the outcome.

This first experience voting for the highest post in the United States would not be my last. In 1992, the political landscape of the United States was tumultuous, marked by economic uncertainty and a yearning for change that resonated deeply with the American electorate. The election of Bill Clinton, who triumphed over the incumbent George H.W. Bush, illuminated a new path forward that rejuvenated my confidence in politics. Clinton's campaign was masterfully anchored on the promise to revive the faltering economy, characterized by high unemployment and inflation, which had left me feeling disillusioned hunting for a job after graduating from college. Clinton's commitment to invest in education and technology rekindled my faith in the power of elected leaders to effect positive change and address critical issues facing the nation.

Over the years, my experiences with voting have been a rollercoaster ride, filled with both joys and disappointments, but nothing quite compared to the exhilarating joy I felt in 2008 when Barack Obama was elected as the first African American president of the United States. That moment was not just historic; it symbolized hope and change for countless individuals who had long yearned for a voice in the political arena. As I stood in line at the polling station, surrounded by a diverse crowd radiating energy and enthusiasm, I could feel the palpable sense of possibility in the air. The campaign sparked a wave of grassroots activism and re-engaged those who had previously felt alienated from the political process. Election night was electric, and when Obama delivered his victory speech, I was overcome with emotion as he articulated a vision of unity and progress that resonated deeply with me and many others. That moment marked not only personal joy but also a yearning for a brighter future—a hope that, despite the struggles that came after, kept alive my belief in the power of democracy and the collective voice of the people.

Yesterday, Kamala Harris's loss to Donald Trump served as a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of politics and the deep divisions that persist within the United States. Witnessing the stark regression in progressive values and the betrayal of my rights as a woman and member of the LGBTQ community left me feeling alone and lost. Throughout the day, I reflected on past electoral cycles to remind myself of a powerful truth: every vote truly matters. History has taught me that even when an election doesn’t go my way, a determined electorate still shapes the future. This time my opponents won, and they are overjoyed that their voices have been heard. So even though this loss terrifies me and fellow Democrats, we must let it serve as a crucial catalyst for activism and engagement in future elections. We must recognize the importance of grassroots movements such as the Blue Dot, community organizing, and the value of holding elected officials accountable. We must find a renewed sense of fiscal responsibility. I know that my vote, and the collective votes of those who stand for justice, equality, and progress, will not only echo through future elections but also help build a resilient foundation for the changes we need to see in our society.

While taking down my political signs from the yard yesterday, I found myself contemplating the significance of my Blue Dot sign and the community we had forged around Omaha’s electoral vote. The presence of blue dots decorating yards throughout Omaha had instilled a strong belief in me that our collective voices have the power to influence the future we aspire to create. I discarded my Harris/Walz signs but opted to keep my blue dot until the 2028 election, as I recognize that the struggle for change is continuous; even in moments of difficulty, we draw resilience from our united dedication to a brighter future.