Emory Bouffard

Why My Vote Matters

The statue of Freedom has crowned the dome of our nation’s capitol since 1863.

Originally named "Freedom Triumphant in War and Peace", it was designed by Thomas

Crawford and depicts a female figure in bronze wearing a military helmet. She holds a sheathed

sword in her right hand and a laurel wreath and shield in her left. Her sword is sheathed,

representing America’s defensive, not offensive, position in the world.

Freedom is something that America fought for, and even after 1776, freedom meant free

for only white, land owning, men. Freedom is something that was earned through wars, blood,

tears and pain; and freedom is kept through education, motivation, and determination. Every

even year on the second Tuesday of November, Americans are exercising their freedom by

casting their ballots and sparking change in their government.

Election process is determined by each state, all elections in that state are conducted the

same way, only the ballot changes; but​ it is not the process and the way in which votes are

counted that gives Americans pride. It is the fact that they have the freedom and the right to

make decisions that create significant change for the country as a whole.

The fight for the right to vote has not been an easy one, and events throughout history

manifest the brutal reality that sacrifices needed to be made.

On Sunday, March 7th, 1965, on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, 600 protesters

marched peacefully and were met with clubs, whips, rubber tubing wrapped in barbed wire, and

tear gas. They did not fight back, because they had vowed to stand their ground, and suffer the
blows for their right as an American. That day became known as “Bloody Sunday,” and the

battle scars received were for the right to vote.

On November 10, 1917, in Washington DC, outside the White House, 33 women

picketing for the right to vote were assaulted and imprisoned. In prison they were abused, forced

to live in unhygienic cells, fed infested food and denied medical treatment that was desperately

needed after their assault. Through all of this horror, they did not stop protesting; iron cells did

not weaken their resolve. The night of November 10, 1917 became known as the “Night of

Terror,” and the pain endured was for the right to vote.

These rights were gained as a direct result of oppressed groups protesting the status quo

to draw attention to their grievances; but it took an amendment to the constitution or an act of

congress to make it the law of the land. This means that it is crucial to elect people to congress

and the White House who agree that these rights need protection.

It appears to me that voting over the years has become less of a celebration of freedom or

a remembrance of strength. The privilege we have to make a difference with the vote seems to

have been forgotten. The wounds, the battle scars, the passionate speeches, the tears, the joys,

and the powerful feeling of handing in a ballot must be remembered; because voting does have

an impact. It unifies people, and it gives a sense of pride to live in America. Every even year on

the second Tuesday of November, there is no race, gender, sexual orientation, or religion. All

Americans can hand in a ballot, and all Americans have a voice.

I remember the first time my mother brought me to the polls with her. It was during the

2008 presidential election. I was 6 years old and was not sure why my mother felt it was

important I be present for whatever was happening. When we arrived to the polling location she
lifted up a piece of paper, looked at me, and said “this is a ballot. Inside it says who I want as

president. When you’re an adult, you will get one just like mine.” She walked up, handed in her

ballot, received her “I voted” sticker, and walked out with a look of pride on her face. I now

understand why she had that look. She felt pride in her country, for the system that lets her voice

be heard in the election, and she felt pride knowing that she was raising a child who would grow

up to be aware of the power and the rights that she holds. I have hope for the future because I

know that my two younger sisters will grow up knowing that they, too, have a voice.

My vote matters because battles were fought with both cannons and speech for my right

to say who I want as a leader. My vote matters because it has the potential to create change,

sparing the blood that was necessary in the past.

A ballot may look like nothing more than a piece of paper, insignificant to the eye,

disposable, and unnecessary; but in that ballot lies a story of resilience, courage, and

determination. That ballot is a battle cry.