A majority of my school’s attendees missed the cut-off date to be eligible to vote today. However, I was sure many of my peers had thoughts pertaining to the 2016 presidential election. Our thoughts couldn’t be put into the ballot box, so I asked them instead. Read on
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The rituals we follow before November eighth
Empty the car and flood into the voter booth,
Me, and my mother, and my baby brother to boot. Read on
I attend The George Washington University in Washington D.C., and my dorm room is only a few blocks away from the White House. I find myself steering away from the political scene before it chokes me. Read on
I didn’t have much love for Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton, so it felt like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Despite my lack of faith in either of them, I decided to vote anyway. Read on
I asked my girlfriends of African, Latin and European descent “What does friendship mean to you” and “How do you know when someone is your friend?” This is what they said. Read on
Not being able to vote is like not being able to extinguish the fire that’s slowly, and eventually, going to swallow you whole. Like I’ve always been told, every vote counts, and I must always exercise this right. My ancestors fought for this right, and I intend to use it. Read on