What the vote

It’s one of those jokes that people laugh at a little too hard… because somewhere underneath it, it stops being funny.

Most of my family and friends checked out of voting a long time ago. Not dramatically, no speeches, no grand exit just a quiet, collective shrug. “It’s rigged,” they say. “Nothing changes.” And honestly, they say it with the kind of confidence you’d think came with a receipt.

Meanwhile, I’m over here like wait… didn’t people bleed for this? Didn’t folks lose everything for the right to cast a vote? It was supposed to be one of those cornerstone wins, like a ceremonial “welcome” into the full promise of being American.

And somehow… this is what we got.

Because every time I bring it up ,every time I say, “What if we actually used that power?” I get hit with that look. You know the one. The “bless your heart, you still believe in things” look.

“They don’t listen to us,” they say.

“They never have.”

“And you think they’re about to start now?”

And I try I really try to stay optimistic. I start talking about community, about numbers, about how we move when we move together. I’m painting this whole vision like, “What happens when we outgrow the limitations they expect us to stay in?”

And without missing a beat, somebody always jumps in with,

“Well then I guess it comes down to force.”

And that’s when the room gets quiet.

Because now I’m sitting there wondering…

How did we go from “our vote doesn’t matter” to “everything ends in conflict” like those are the only two options on the menu?

No in-between. No strategy. No rebuilding. Just apathy on one side and escalation on the other.

And maybe that’s the real punchline.

That somewhere along the way, believing in change started sounding naïve…

and giving up started sounding practical.

And I can’t lie that part?

That part isn’t funny at all.

There is a quiet rearranging happening… not loud enough to startle, just subtle enough to go unquestioned. Seats shift. Policies dissolve. Doors that were once cracked open begin to close with a softer sound polite, procedural, almost invisible.

And oh, how convenient it all is.

My deepest, most graceful condolences to those just now noticing.

Truly. Welcome. We’ve been waiting for you.

Because some of us have always known what it feels like to read between the lines of “progress.” To feel the temperature drop in a room that swears it’s still warm. To understand that removal doesn’t always look like force sometimes it looks like restructuring, like redistricting, like “reimagining standards.”

How poetic.

You see, being a woman of color does not separate me from the American story it places me right at its pulse. Raised in the South, where history still breathes through the soil. Educated in the North, where systems wear cleaner suits but often speak the same language. I have seen both the whisper and the echo.

So no, this isn’t an “I told you so.”

This is a:

Now that you see it… what will you do with it?

Because awareness without action is just decoration.

And survival has never been about decoration.

If voices are being softened, then we must speak louder with intention, not just volume.

If representation is being reduced, then we must organize deeper, not just react faster.

If value is being questioned, then we must define ourselves beyond what any system assigns.

They have always known there is power in presence. That when we show up fully, intentionally the ripple becomes a wave.

So the question is not whether something is shifting.

The question is whether we will.

Not in fear. Not in bitterness.

But in strategy. In unity. In ownership of our voice, our vote, our communities, our narrative.

Because erasure only works when we participate in our own silence.

And that?

That was never our story.

So speak. Build. Protect. Show up.

Not later.

Now.

I’m not here to tell anyone what we, as a collective, should do because that kind of talk rarely moves anything forward. What I can do is stand in my own lane with intention.

I will take full accountability for the words I speak, the actions I take, and the emotions I choose to transform in the moment. I will bring change in the ways that are within my reach consistently, deliberately, and without waiting for permission.

And maybe, just maybe, my way of moving can serve as a quiet guide… something you can draw from as you find your own way to create change too.

I Start by Stabilizing My Mind Before the Movement

I recognize that if I’m overwhelmed, triggered, or constantly reacting, I won’t move effectively. So I slow myself down on purpose.

I create space to think whether that’s journaling, praying, or just sitting in stillness. I limit how much chaos I take in, because too much noise clouds my judgment. And I keep a small circle people I trust where I can process things honestly.

Clarity is my first strategy.

🗳️ I Protect and Use My Civic Power

I don’t sit out. I verify my registration, I stay informed, and I show up every time, not just when it’s trending.

I pay attention to what’s happening locally, because I understand that decisions in my city and state shape my everyday life more than anything else. I take the time to learn how policies actually work so I’m not just reacting I’m informed.

My presence is part of the power.

🧠 I Turn Awareness Into Education

I don’t just feel like something is off I make sure I understand it.

I seek out real information, not just clips and headlines. I break things down in a way that I and the people around me can actually understand. I talk about it in my circles, because silence doesn’t build awareness.

I choose understanding over confusion.

🤝 I Organize Small Before I Think Big

I don’t wait for a massive movement to start I start where I am.

I connect with local groups, I support businesses that reflect my values, and I show up in spaces where my voice can be heard even if it’s just a meeting or a conversation. I understand that small, consistent actions build real structure.

I build from the ground up.

🧾 I Protect My Narrative and Build Ownership

I don’t allow my story or my community’s story to be erased or rewritten without my voice in it.

I create, I document, I share. Whether it’s through art, writing, or business, I build things that I own and control. I pass down knowledge, not just struggle, so the next generation has tools not just memories.

I define my value for myself.

⚖️ I Think Long-Term, Not Just Emotionally

I remind myself that real change isn’t instant.

I set goals beyond the moment what I want to see a year from now, five years from now. I support what aligns with my values, but I also stay aware and hold people accountable. And I pace myself so I don’t burn out because I know I’m needed for the long run.

I move with intention, not just urgency.

🌊 And the Truth I Hold Onto

I don’t need everyone to move.

I just need to move with purpose and connect with others who are doing the same.

So I start simple:

• I build with a few people I trust

• I focus on what I truly understand

• I take one action and repeat it consistently

Because I know this:

Power doesn’t disappear.

It shifts toward those who are clear, prepared, and willing to use it.

And I’ve decided… that includes me.