A Part Of Herstory

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

The crossfire and crosstalk were clogging the arteries and the media

Messages of overt hate were being delivered at a rapid rate, similar to the sprinkling of bullets from a semi automatic weapon

2nd amendment defenses and attacks joined the noise

Promises of a better America from both sides were delivered as gospel

It was a time of choice where one was labeled an avid hater and the other a career criminal

Never was a country more torn, more divided and more disgusted with the process

Elections are supposed to be about issues and not sound bites

Elections are supposed to be about public service records and not about insults

Elections are supposed to be about the people, for the people and to benefit the people

This process is priceless to me, a son of exile, a son raised in freedom and a son at the Bicentennial where unconditional love for my America was solidified at ten years old

Naively, I believe in the process and its intent

I want it to work the way I was taught it should work

I want those rose-tint colored glasses to transform the ugly for me into a more palatable hue

But that is not to be

I am still faced with the choice of being a part of hatestory or herstory

History tells me, dating back to the times of Jesus, that hate is never an option

My decision is made

My vote will be cast

I will be a part of herstory


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