by Mark Anthony Waters

Today I voted for the first time. I’ve been waiting for this day since Bush got elected in 2000. And as soon as I heard a black man was running for President, I started imagining the chaotic scene at the voting booth.

I pictured extremely long lines filled with people from around my neighborhood and schools I’ve gone to, with all their friends and families acting up and talking loud about how a change is overdue.

I expected to see people turned away left and right for wearing shirts that broadcasted their political opinions, and fights in the line over who should win, Obama or McCain.

I thought I’d see a crowd of people with “No on Prop 8” signs knocking people with “Yes on Prop 8” signs. Pins and posters would fly in the air from the brawls in the streets!

Much to my surprise, when I walked into the Collins Elementary School to cast my first vote, the room was almost empty. I asked the person in charge, “Where’s everybody at?” She ignored my question and led me to a table with four other people, including one man who lives in my apartment complex. I was disappointed that there were almost no young voters except me. I started checking off the propositions that would potentially change my life—including one that basically states gay love isn’t worthy of recognition in a heterosexual world.

Honestly, I’m not even sure my vote will be counted in this election, based on what’s happened in the past, and because I question everything. But now that I’ve actually voted, I feel like at least I have a right to be angry if my candidate doesn’t win.