Recognized, Not Given

My Women’s Suffrage Necklace
It is the 100-year anniversary of the ratification of the 19th amendment to the US Constitution, recognizing women's suffrage. I refuse to say we were “given” the right to vote. That’s one of our inalienable rights, and just because some tin-horn dictator or group of male landed gentry prevented us from voting didn’t mean our right didn’t exist. 

To add insult to injury, President Trump issued a pardon to Susan B. Anthony, who was convicted of illegal voting. As if, to quote a great sage.

It is also the day of our Florida primary, and I believe a first for Grant and me: we conferred and discussed who we should vote for. Usually this is a don’t ask, don’t tell situation. At the top of the ticket, we are agreed; down-ballot, we often diverge. He pulled up the Orlando Sentinel’s recommendations on his iPad, and although it doesn’t seem to be as flaming liberal as our Sun Sentinel in Fort Lauderdale, still leaned pretty far left. My natural inclination is to vote for the woman, figuring men have had their turn, but several times, the male candidate seemed better. We didn’t agree on all the races and didn’t go with the newspaper’s picks, but we had fun talking about who to vote for. 

Lastly, it is the first night of the National Democratic Convention, a virtual rather than back room meeting. I’ve made a commitment to myself to watch all four nights, then all four nights of the Republican National Convention next week. An informed electorate, blah, blah. Do I have the strength to listen to all the hooey? TBD

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