Dear daughters,
I realize that our trip to the cemetery last Tuesday wasn’t your idea of a fun outing. You were hungry (we should have grabbed something to eat at Tim Horton’s beforehand — my apologies). You were also frustrated about skipping school and annoyed by the long wait.
Regardless, I truly appreciate you joining me. I understand that the historical importance of voting might not resonate with you yet. To be honest, I sometimes struggle to grasp it fully myself. While I recognize that it’s a privilege not everyone enjoys, there are moments when I forget its significance. I can see why visiting that gravestone wasn’t at the top of your list.
However, I believe that one day, you will understand its importance.
As you mature, travel, meet new people, and expand your knowledge, you’ll start to live the lessons you’ve only heard about in school. You’ll witness the different treatment of people of color, and being biracial, you may experience it firsthand. You’ll observe the mistreatment of the LGBTQ community and the disrespect shown to those with disabilities. You’ll see entire communities marginalized, even though our values promote acceptance and love for all. The world’s inequities and injustices will astound and sadden you.
I recognize that you don’t fully grasp these concepts yet. That’s why your father and I are trying to provide you with some perspective, whether it’s through volunteering at shelters, participating in Pride parades, or discussing race whenever we can. I didn’t fully comprehend these issues until I was older, and I hope to give you a different foundation. You may look back at these moments with annoyance (let’s be honest, that’s likely), but I hope you’ll also reflect on why they meant so much to me and what I aimed to impart.
So why did I insist on taking you to vote and then to Susan B. Anthony’s grave on election day? Despite your groaning, I felt it was essential. I know that as women, you will face challenges, setbacks, and obstacles. You will encounter harassment, condescension, and underestimation because of your gender.
When those moments arise, I hope you’ll recall that day. I want you to remember your excitement about wearing a pantsuit in honor of Hillary Clinton, and how thrilled you were to wear the blazers we found at Goodwill, since pantsuits for your age are hard to find. I want you to remember the joy you felt as we exchanged smiles with other women in their pantsuits at the polling place — a silent bond of support.
I hope you remember the woman who ran past us in the long line to see Susan’s grave, exuberantly calling out, “High fives, everyone!” and how we all laughed and raised our hands to her. I want you to cherish the beautiful autumn day, the vibrant red leaves, and the electric atmosphere. You’ll probably recall the amusing name Mary Smyles Butts on one of the tombstones too.
I want you to remember how we let a woman using a walker skip ahead of us, even though we had all been waiting. That’s what women do for one another — we lift each other up and support one another. I hope you won’t forget the woman ahead of us who stood for over an hour with a bouquet of white flowers. When she reached Susan’s headstone, she had only three blooms left because she generously shared the others with those around her, including you and me.
I want you to remember how we couldn’t contain our excitement as we skipped back down the cobbled path, whispering, “Do you really think she can do it?” Remember that our support for Secretary Clinton wasn’t solely based on her being a woman; we had many other reasons. But the prospect of a woman reaching this level of leadership is thrilling. It’s thanks to women like Susan B. Anthony that we can even imagine this possibility, and we owe her our gratitude for the hope she instilled in us.
The simple reason I took you to the cemetery was so you could pay tribute to the women who paved the way for you. I wanted you to gain a deeper understanding of our past, which I hope will help you navigate the future.
Ultimately, I brought you there to inspire belief — not just in a potential Hillary Clinton presidency, but in yourselves as women. I want you to remember that when you doubt yourselves because of your gender, when someone tells you that you can’t achieve something due to your chromosomes, or when you face disrespect simply for being female — perhaps even from our president-elect — you’ll recall the long line of people sharing high-fives, exchanging flowers, and allowing those in need to go ahead. You’ll remember that we are all connected by a common struggle.
Though Hillary didn’t win the presidency, her journey to this point is incredibly inspiring. If a woman can come this close to leading the United States, then you can accomplish anything you set your minds to. That is something worth celebrating, regardless of the election outcome.
Yes, Hillary lost, and I am heartbroken and concerned for our country (but that’s a different discussion). It saddens me that you, my brave, kind, intelligent daughters, still live in a world without a female president. However, we’ve seen the strength of women on election day and every day: Women are courageous. Women stand by each other. Susan and Hillary didn’t give up, and neither will we. If not this year, then another. We will unite to make it happen.
I brought you to the cemetery to remind you that it only takes one woman to change the world. Her name is Susan. Her name is Hillary. And her name is yours too.
With love,
Mama
In Summary
The author reflects on the significance of taking her daughters to Susan B. Anthony’s grave, emphasizing the importance of understanding history and the struggles women have faced. By sharing this experience, she hopes to instill a sense of empowerment in her daughters, encouraging them to believe in themselves and support one another as they navigate societal challenges.
Keyphrase: Susan B. Anthony’s Grave Visit
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