This vote’s for every little girl who was told math wasn’t for girls and for every young woman who was told girls can’t grow up to be doctors or lawyers or engineers, astronauts or Presidents.
This vote’s for every woman who has ever had to moderate her voice or been told what or what not to wear.
This vote is for every little girl who was told she couldn’t be Bat Man for Halloween and for every little boy who was told he couldn’t be Wonder Woman.
This vote is for every angry woman who’s ever been asked “are you on the rag?”
It’s for every woman who has put her head down to survive.
And for every woman who was told college is wasted on girls.
It’s for every woman who died from back-alley abortions or because her life wasn’t considered as important as the one she was carrying.
This vote is for every young girl who was turned away from woodworking and put into Home Economics instead.
It’s for every girl who asked “Why?”
It’s for all the men enlightened enough to see that a world in which women are equal is better not only for women, but for men as well.
This vote is for every woman who scrubbed toilet stalls or stood on her feet ten hours a day or cleaned houses or worked a factory floor in order to provide for her children.
This vote is for every woman beaten, every woman assaulted, every woman touched against her will. It’s for the ones who were able to get away and for the ones who couldn’t.
This vote is for the women of Seneca Falls, NY, to the women who fought and died for my right to cast this ballot.
It’s for every woman who has endured a lifetime of small moments meant to belittle.
It’s for all the women who have come forward, especially the ones who have been doubted, shamed, or shunned.
This vote is for every woman who has had to write under the name of a man, who’s had her work overlooked, her contributions diminished, who has lost her rightful place in history books.
This vote is for every woman who’s had to work twice as hard to prove herself.
This vote is my mother who never once told me I was less than because of my sex. For my father who never shied away from telling me how proud he was of me.
This vote is for every girl who has heard ‘like a girl’. It’s for every little girl who knows, instinctively, it’s meant as an insult.
This vote is for every woman who came before, who chipped away a little at a time. For every woman who watched a dream fade away because others weren’t ready for her.
This vote is for every woman who has been called shrill, aggressive, bossy, bitch. This vote is for every woman who didn’t let those words stop her.
This vote is for every eye blackened, every bone broken, every woman killed.
This vote is for every woman who went first, who cut herself on whichever ceiling she broke through, who had to tend to her wounds alone because she was the only one.
This vote is for every little girl growing up in a country where she is still denied the right to be educated, where she is sold into marriage or trafficked into trade.
This vote is for my husband, who believes I can do anything I dare to dream. It’s for my sons, who will grow up never questioning the idea of a woman’s name on a ballot.
This vote is for every voice raised against inequality, whether it is shouting or whispering.
This vote’s for you, Hillary.
12 Comments Add yours
For every girl who wanted to take shop class in high school and was scheduled for typing instead… VOTE.
I swear, the difference between me and finishing in the top 3 of my class was a zipper. My mother thought it would be helpful if I took a sewing class in high school. The only class I ever got a B in. Ever. Damn zipper.
My husband taught physics. One of his students earned her only B in his class one trimester. She wrote a song about it, “B+.” She is the bass player (upright bass) for the group called Lake Street Dive. She’s done okay. And you have, too. 🙂 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMEPgLxvNPk
I asked for a table saw instead of an engagement ring and got it.
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I love those little triumphs. I remember asking for a tool set one year. IT seemed like a tangible symbol of taking care of myself–both realistically and metaphorically!
My mom was fine with my choice. She could make anything, including furniture. It was the school that wouldn’t cooperate.
Awesome. One of my daughters went with me last Saturday for early voting. I choked up as I cast my ballot. It’s momentous.
I keep reading stories and seeing videos of women all over the country voting in groups, in generations, and LOADS of them openly crying. I don’t think you can possibly understand it unless you are a woman this time. I imagine those who identified with Obama did the same in 20008. It gives me chills thinking about it.
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Absolutely. We did a major clear-out of two storage cabinets over the weekend, and came across the local newspaper insert about Obama’s election in 2008. I cried and cried with joy that night, and choked up again when we found that newspaper – which we’ll be saving along with (fingers crossed) the one we’ll see next week about our first female president.
I’m just a British girl, and can’t contribute to the vote, but i have to say your post was beautifully expressed. Thank You.
Thank you, Sister Suffragist from across the pond!
Great post thanks for sharing