I tried to vote. I really did.
First, I couldn’t heed every last neoliberal drop of Hillary Clinton’s words and Pokémon go to the polls because I forgot my Apple ID password so I couldn’t download the app. After giving up and closing the app store after too many failed password attempts, I opened Instagram to see my peers post endlessly on their stories, urging me with unparalleled aggression to register to vote. When I DM’d a few of them asking how to register, one of them left me on read. The other replied, “fuck I didn’t think I’d get this far lol.”
I decided to take matters into my own hands. I requested an absentee ballot, but instead received a letter in return four weeks later that read “YOU REALLY THINK WE WOULD EVER COUNT THIS” in big, GOP-funded block letters.
So then I tried to register in North Carolina with the help of students tabling on the BC for voter registration. As I began to approach, I was, as always, bombarded by peers yelling, “HEY! Do you want to eradicate poverty?” and “Do you care about kids with cancer?”
With no defense and without headphones in my ears, I had no choice but to engage.
“Well, what kind of cancer?” I asked.