One hundred and four years ago, on August 19, 1920, the 19th amendment was ratified, granting women the right to vote.
“The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.” ~ 19th Amendment of the United States Constitution
Voting is our super power. It is democracy in action. Don’t let anyone…ANYONE…tell you it doesn’t matter or it won’t count. I have voted in every major election since 1980.
In 1984, I stood in a line that snaked its way around the car dealership where my polling place was located in Dallas, Texas. In 1992, I brought my toddler into the voting booth with me. Later, both boys accompanied me to the local school in our neighborhood where I cast my votes. A week after the 2016 election, I watched my friend Ann yell down protesters in Chicago. “Did you vote? If not, you have no right to protest! You must vote!” When I moved to Missouri, I made sure I was registered to vote. Before dawn on November 3, 2020, my husband and I stood in a long line at the neighborhood polling place playing Spelling Bee on my phone as we stepped closer to placing our votes for a new president. A week later when Biden was declared the winner, I put on Prince’s “Let’s Go Crazy” and danced around my small living room. I think the cat thought I was having a breakdown.
How did I get here?
My father, a mainstream Republican, would often shake his head when I’d spout off about social justice at the dinner table. “I do not know where you came from, honey.” I’d smile and say, “Change doesn’t happen if you’re silent, Dad.” I never was neutral. My hand was up in class if someone, especially a boy, said something ignorant or sexist. Many eyes were rolled in my direction. My two high school term papers were on the United States’ Japanese internment camps during World War II and the plight of the Native Americans throughout our history.
Late summer of 1976 amid all the Bicentennial celebrations, I was hanging out at my friend Peg’s house when her mother Francie came whirling into the room. “Girls, we are going to see Rosalynn! Get in the car.” We didn’t know what she was going on about, but she seemed excited, so we followed. A few minutes later we found ourselves in the midst of a throng of people out at the Holiday Inn where Rosalynn Carter had just finished speaking. As she walked down the gauntlet of people, she reached for my hand and said in her gentle yet determined Southern accent, “Vote for my husband.” Since I turned 18 on November 21, 1976, I missed voting for Jimmy Carter by two weeks. And yes, I touched Rosalynn Carter!
After my friend Sheila turned 18, she asked me if I had registered to vote, and I shook my head and replied rather shamefully, “No, not yet.” She insisted we immediately drive downtown to the courthouse. The two of us filled out forms, raised our hands, and officially became Illinois registered voters in April of 1977.
On November 4, 1980, I knew I had to cast my first vote in a presidential election. It was my senior year in college, and I was with my friend Nancy and a few friends. We were getting ready to head out to dinner before our sorority chapter meeting and Tuesday night parties, but I said, “I need to vote first.” Nancy looked at me sideways, and said, “Vote?” “Yes, vote. I have to vote before the polls close.” “Really? You couldn’t have done this earlier?” I stubbornly said, “I have to vote.” She then drove me to my little polling place that was in a neighbor’s garage. I walked in, voted, and when I got back in her car, Nancy said, “Shumate, I’ll never forget this. You had to vote before we went out.” “Yup. It was important.” She just shook her head, and for the next forty years she has never let me forget about that one night in college when she drove me to vote.
These moments are pivotal for me on so many levels. My dad may have questioned my politics, but he never yelled or intimidated me about my views. Sheila modeled action and agency. Francie taught me the importance of showing up. Rosalynn Carter displayed democracy in action. Ann demonstrated using my voice and speaking up, even if I’m shaking. Peggy and Nancy, along with others, have shown me the importance of strong, fabulous, spectacular women friends who hold one another up, even in the darkest of times.
Now, in an historic turn, a woman will be running for President of the United States. This time, as before, the stakes are high. Our democracy, our freedoms, our basic human rights hang on a delicate and precarious thread. Will women, together with the strength of decent, well-informed American voters, bind it up? Holy moly, I hope so, my friends. Our grandchildren’s futures depend on it.
If you have any questions or want credible information, here are a few links to help on your journey:
What to know about Kamala Harris
“Women are going to form a chain, a greater sisterhood than the world has ever known.” ~Nellie L. McClung
“Abandon the cultural myth that all female friendships must be bitchy, toxic, or competitive. This myth is like heels and purses - pretty, but designed to slow women down.” ~Roxane Gay
"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."
- Martin Luther King, Jr
"Elections belong to the people. It's their decision. If they decide to turn their back on the fire and burn their behinds, then they will just have to sit on their blisters."
- Abraham Lincoln
(The bones of this piece were originally written on November 8, 2016, before my heart was broken after learning the election results. I’ve tweaked it to meet the moment, and today I am energized, hopeful, lighter, and full of piss and vinegar, as my grandmother used to say.)