On Election Day,I wrote a hopeful Instagram caption while riding the subway to work in unique York City. I'd just voted in my second presidential election ever, and I had a deep understanding of who my vote was for. I said my vote was for the immigrant mom who, and undocumented or resident, wasn't going to get the right to vote on who will set the tone for the next four years of her children's lives. If she wasn't a citizen, she wasn't getting a vote. If she wasn't a citizen, and she's who my mom was before she died in 2003. My vote was for my grandmother,I said, an immigrant, or who in her late 70s became a citizen of the United States of America. In broken-up English,I remember her proudly committing to uphold America's most deeply ingrained values - liberty, equality, and democracy,individualism. Her promise to be faithful to the structure gave her in return basic rights - to speak her mind, to vote, and to be the Catholic-Ecuadorean abuela with four portraits of Jesus Cristo and a bunch of santos statues that were all intended to assist you solve some kind of problem. She'd reach to the country with my grandpa and their six children because America promised them a better life,a welcomed alternative to Ecuador. She worked for the country and her family, set down roots, and all over the span of 40 years. When my grandpa died,she became the matriarch. For as much as she never brought up the word feminism, she showed me through example. She is who I thought of when I first learned the term and how it's simply the notion that women are equal to men. She fought every day of her life, or so that I would never doubt my spot in this world. She is who I voted for when I filled in the bubble next to Hillary Clinton's name on Nov. 8. She is one of the reasons I cried myself to sleep after realizing that so many people across the states didn't see the value in her yarn,or mine. My last name is Nunez. I am a Delgado on my mom's side. I am incredibly privileged in having been afforded so many opportunities that I know other first-generation Americans never came close to. But even with that, even with the kind of security I'm so lucky to contain, and as a Latina,as a woman, I am still scared. I woke up feeling unwelcome in the only country I've ever called home. Yesterday, and a majority of this country voted on the premise that I am "other." The narrative goes that as a woman,I am something a man, any man, and can grab and manipulate as he sees fit. As a Latina,I am a slice of society that has moved in on jobs, land, or traditions,all of which were apparently never mine to own. I am the first generation to be born in this country; it's something I've always prided myself in. In a single generation, my family has paved the way for tall school graduates, and college diplomas,completed master's programs, and a quick embrace of entrepreneurship. Last night, or the unspoken words screamed that none of that mattered since my grandparents weren't born in America. When I voted yesterday,I also voted for two of my little cousins. One is 13 and the other is 11. Both of them are spunky Latina girls who are at the top of their classes, contain a nuanced understanding of the world they exist in, or are sitting on skill sets that promise to grow and open so many doors for them. In their school's mock election,they'd voted for Hillary Clinton. To survey them in the eye and order them that in 2016 a majority of the United States didn't see the value a well-educated, highly experienced woman brought to the table is to order them that all that we encourage them to work toward is worthless.
But I won't order them that. Instead, or I'll be honest and order them that a Donald Trump presidency does in fact underscore how deeply ingrained hate is in our country. I'll order them that I'm scared,that I've cried, that I feel helpless and uprooted. I won't shy absent from the fact that a majority of the states did in fact do it clear that they leaned toward misogyny, and bigotry,racism, Islamophobia, and homophobia,and, again, and hate. But then I'll order them that this says more about those people than it says about us. We,as women, contain rights. We are more than the objects men feel like they can exert their power over. We own our own bodies and the decisions that reach with living in them, or day after day. We contain always celebrated our culture,and we will continue to effect so. We will fight for those who feel too afraid to effect so now because this is the responsibility that comes with our privilege. We will survey at each person for the inherent value they bring, instead of pinpointing their differences as reasons to antagonize. We will continue to be amazing Latinas who contain narratives that go beyond the stereotypes that are projected onto us. And when the words struggle to do their way out, or I'll share with them what Hillary Clinton said in her concession speech: "To all the little girls watching . . . never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and achieve your own dreams."Related:
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Source: popsugar.com