By Prism Zephyr
I was very conflicted over voting in the year leading up to my first time. As a person with multiple intersections, Black, queer, nonbinary, fat, neurodivergent, assigned female at birth, and as an orphan living with a retired grandparent with a limited income (pardon the length), I felt that I was going to be harmed on the account of one identity or another. Certain candidates felt like they meant death for many, and I am upset that this notion was correct. While other candidates, the ones I was limited to voting for, were going to keep the United States on a similar track; a track that does unnecessary harm to many people while protecting the current power structure. I felt no need to vote in order to sustain gross capitalist practices that ended up hurting me and my loved ones in so many ways. That was selfish thinking, I understand now here at the end of my philosophy degree in 2020, but I couldn’t help thinking that it was rooted in something different than for those with similar sentiments but different voting habits. Of course we all care about our loved ones, but the paths we take shouldn’t harm the masses at large in order to ensure happiness for our own. Not that my votes necessarily meant easier times for the general populace, but I felt that I had no other choice. I see now that many others who voted differently most likely felt the same way.
After voting, I felt dismayed that so many of my young peers had voted in ways that would lead to worse outcomes for the main populace at large. I could see they felt shame, and yet they voted the way they did anyway. Similar descriptions of reasonings behind one’s own voting practices and similar capitalist outcomes meant that I needed to take other actions. I did not feel satisfied after voting. It felt like voting was not enough, and yet nothing else does either. Calling a Senator feels like leaving an immediately deleted voicemail. Donating five dollars feels like I should have donated five more, ad infinitum, until I have nothing left, like the rest of us, and profits sit tightly in the pockets of a hundred privileged men. An “I Voted” sticker felt more like an “I helped capitalism to destroy millions more lives” sticker. I understand now that the pain of others, even if I can’t see how I help them, is worth that five dollars to alleviate in even the smallest of ways. My sympathy has grown a thousand-fold since I first voted four years ago, and I know now that our best hope to guarantee a happier life for the general populace is establishing universalities. This is what motivates me to vote, knowing that each individual has felt an avoidable pain, and continues to pay unnegotiable prices in order to live, and that this is not the purpose of a human life. Advancements in technology should be relieving humans, not enslaving them. I vote for each person to have a happier life, and a guaranteed future that I know is possible with the right policies.
Prism Zephyr is a proud Queer rights activist and philosophy major at the University of Nevada, Reno. Losing their parents at a young age was one of many ways in which they were rendered vulnerable in this world. Pairing painfully with the systemic marginalization of many of their identities, Zephyr has dedicated their life to reaching out to other disadvantaged people to help them recognize their worth despite the systematic prejudices from society at large. They support body positivity, and they continuously provide resources to those around them to engage with a world unseen due to their privileges.