Election Night by Morgan Hylton

Election Day


Photo Credit: Morgan Hylton

Watching my sister

slurp sprinkles from the side of a cone,

I told her that she was a woman

with fine wine and Susan B. Anthony

running through her veins.

I told her that she was Miss America,

that she sweat gold and cried silver,

that her one split-ended curl

was worth more than a whole synthetic wig—

don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I told her that the girl at her art table

with the hijab

wouldn’t hurt her, but the white boy

who tried to play footsy under the desk might;

and by the way, I told her,

stomp all over his white Vans,

because your feet belong only to you,

as does every other bone

of your body.

I told her that Mexico was real,

from our nights wrapped in blankets

humming husky Spanish hymns,

to tortilla-clapping women

kneading empanada dough by candlelight,

to the broken beer bottles in the street.

Life’s not a fairytale, I told her;

people aren’t villains or Prince Charmings,

just people.

Most of all, I told her

that although she couldn’t vote,

couldn’t post, couldn’t campaign,

couldn’t even stay awake long enough

to see the California polls close,

she was Athena, Aphrodite and Artemis,

changing history with every breath.

Wednesday morning,

while newscasters were telling

electoral wins and losses, I told her

to wear her black clothes

and drying tear stains proudly.

I told her the Bible was her armor

and she was the warrior, stronger

than any glass mirror; I told her

and I told her, told her until I

believed it too.


Photo credit: Morgan Hylton

Morgan Hylton is a 17 year old a writer, editor, and a soon-to-be English major from Towson, Maryland. Morgan reflects that the inspiration for her poem came “as November 8th drew nearer. I became increasingly frustrated by not being able to vote. As a soon-to-be college student, as a Christian who spends a week every summer serving a Mexican border town, and as a young woman, so many of the ‘hot topics’ this election season related to me; still, I couldn’t vote simply because of my age. As a writer, it was natural for me to turn to poetry as a constructive outlet for my frustration. I hope that through reading this, women and other marginalized groups will feel encouraged and empowered rather than defeated.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s