Voting is a privilege.

The presidential elections took place last night. Election time is often a reflective time for me, as I consider my own identity as a foreigner. Well, to be more politically correct about it, I should use the word ‘immigrant’ instead of ‘foreigner.’ Because I’m not a U.S. citizen, I do not have voting rights (I’m a permanent resident). Yet, I always ask myself which candidate would I vote for if I could vote? Which issues would be deciding factors for me? If I could vote, I would enroll myself as an Independent and see which candidate qualifies on a case-by-case basis. I feel that voting on the merits of party alliance only is turning a blind-eye to one’s rights as a citizen.

Many of my friends and people in my age group are Democrats and Obama supporters. While I would have voted for Obama in the 2012 presidential election, I would first take the time to inspected every single detail of what he stands for before making a final decision. In the end, it was a no-brainer for me. I support women’s rights and gay rights, the middle/working class, universal healthcare, increased taxes for the wealthy, a checks-and-balance system on big business, and an open demeanor to foreign relations. Obama was simply the candidate that fit the bill.
 
While I sometimes lament about not being able to vote, that’s not to say that my non-voting status is one I would take back in a heart beat either. As a journalist, it came in handy a couple of times while reporting on The Harlem Mormon Voter in August. During a meet and greet after service at the local Mormon church, I was asked by a young missionary who I would vote for. I thought the gentleman had every right to ask me, since I had been asking him similar questions. I told him I couldn’t vote and sighed a big relief to myself after. I felt that not voting kept me honest and objective in reporting on the political climate.
 
Voting is a privilege many Americans take for granted. While I have lived in America longer than my native country, Indonesia, one of the reasons why I still don’t feel like I’m fully a part of this country is because I can’t participate in voting for the leader I want. I don’t vote in Indonesian politics either–which, maybe I should. Perhaps then I would feel like I belong to a country, a land, a place, a body of people who makes decisions together. As of now, I’m in limbo and have felt in limbo for years. One foot out the door and the other foot in the door; one elbow in America and the other elbow in Indonesia. I belong fully no where, yet belong in these two places equally. My childhood memories are in America, yet my passport reads that I am protected by the Republic of Indonesia, a country that is still exotic to me.

Soon, I will find out how much of myself is actually Indonesian and how much of myself is an American.