My America: Cake + Fritos

After filling out my ballot, I thought, “I just voted for a black guy, gay marriage, and pot. What planet are we on?!” At 20 years old, I thought it would be 75 years before seeing that kind of progress. Actually, I thought I would be dead, or frozen in a cryogenic pod. So glad I live in Washington State and nowhere else.

Because this election is so important to me, I wanted to write down some thoughts for my great-great grandchildren to read when Facebook and blogging are social media relics they teach in high school history.

Regarding that which turns you into a Frito-eating machine, i.e. ‘The Pot,’ as kids are calling it these days, I voted “Hokay!” I’m most interested in seeing The Supreme Court vs. The State of Washington in what is (hopefully) a thoughtful, interesting showdown that leads to a greater national conversation. It’s long overdue, but someone needs to get it there, and I’m hoping Washington will trailblaze.

I voted for the Nazi Kenyan again; you know how much I like antisemitism and African heat, especially together. But if Mitt Romney is elected, I’m not really worried. You can only vote human beings into office. Robots not allowed.

No surprise here, but I voted to approve people marrying whoever they goddamn want. When someone asks me “What did you do when _______ weren’t considered equal?”, I’ll have an answer I can be proud of. 45 years ago, Justin and I couldn’t have been married if it wasn’t for people like us fighting for equality back then. And why? Because Justin looks like he’s been toiling away in a tulip mine alongside his fair-skinned brethren, and I have a tan.

Bottom line, there is NO WAY that I, as a

1) woman (legally allowed to vote in 1920)

2) of color (legally allowed to vote in 1870, had I been a man)

3) marrying someone outside of my race (illegal until 1967)

will vote against progress toward a more open-minded, accepting society. Who am I to deny the happiness of anyone for any reason? I don’t believe in second class citizens, and thanks to courageous people who came before me, I’m not considered one. Equal rights were ready for me, in their protracted adolescence, by the time I arrived on the scene. I hope it’s ready for the next batch of people, namely the rainbow parade, because Equality isn’t a question mark. It’s three exclamation marks, the number one, and another exclamation mark; everybody knows that. Or maybe it’s a never-ending cake that no one is allergic to — yes! That’s what it is. Equality Cake of America: Tastes like shit but everybody gets some.

I hope by the end of this week, we’re all eating carbs together, cake and Fritos. That’s MY America.

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