Over the next few weeks, tens of millions of Americans will cast votes that will shape the future of this country. I won’t be one of them.
199 days: six months and 18 days separate the U.S. presidential election on November 5 and my birthday – and my right to vote.
At 17, I’m old enough to understand what’s at stake but too young to participate. This year, I will not join the roughly 244 million Americans eligible to vote. I’ll have to wait until 2028 to cast my ballot in a presidential election.
It’s an odd place to be, standing on the outside of a process I’m so ready to be part of, watching people my age in other countries fight and die for a right I don’t yet have but which millions of Americans this year will ignore.
Still, you might wonder: without a vote, why do I care about this year’s election?
This is a strange and infuriating contradiction — one many young people like me are acutely aware of. In my high school, we spend more time learning how to register to vote than thinking about which candidate we’d pick.
In Oregon, there’s a statewide program allowing 16- and 17-year-olds to pre-register to vote, ensuring that by the time we’re 18, we’ll automatically be eligible. It’s forward-thinking. But it’s also frustrating. We’re preparing for an exam we can’t take. And still, millions of people who have already earned the right to vote will choose not to.
Without a vote, but a close observer of the U.S. government throughout my life, my vantage point is close enough to see the stakes but powerless to act. Yet, this position has sharpened my understanding that casting a vote means shaping the future.
To those who can vote this year, I offer this reminder: voting is an opportunity not everyone in this country — or this world — has. The fact that millions will choose to sit out the election is, to me, inexplicable. How can one not vote, knowing the gravity of what’s at stake?
In the last midterm election, voter turnout among 18- to 29-year-olds was around 27%, lower than any other age group. Think about that. At a time when young people claim to be more politically engaged than ever, barely a quarter of those with the power to vote actually showed up — and that was our second-highest youth voter turnout in almost three decades, according to the Center for Information and Research on Civic Learning and Engagement at Tufts University.
In the end, what I want is for those who can vote this year to treat it like the opportunity it is — a freedom of democracy, one that many of us don’t yet have access to.
– Annamika Konkola
I see this same paradox among adults in my own life. People complain about the state of the country, yet when it comes time to act, they sit it out. Perhaps they think their vote doesn’t matter, or maybe they’re disillusioned by politics. Reasons for not voting vary, but the result is the same: when the time comes to wield their power, they don’t.
As someone who would give anything to have a say in this election, I hope you will recognize the danger of allowing a gap between your power and your actions.
I know November will not be my only chance to participate in U.S. civic life. Even if I can’t vote for president, I’ll soon be able to vote for city commissioners, school board members, and ballot measures. When I think about casting my first vote, it won’t be for the president — it’ll likely be for a measure on a local tax or a new city councilor.
While I won’t be voting on the national stage this year, I look forward to participating in local elections when I turn 18.
Local elections often don’t get the same attention as national ones, but they are often where democracy is most tangible. For me, this is where my political engagement will begin, and I’m eager to play my part. Decisions that shape our neighborhoods and local communities are important. Voters decide whether we fund libraries, whether teachers get raises, whether certain businesses stay open.
That’s not nothing. These choices touch the things we interact with every day. But they are precisely the elections that receive the least turnout.
I look forward to casting my first vote in one of these “quiet” elections — where my choices might be just as consequential. It’s where I’ll start to make my voice count.
Signs for local, state and national elections in Massachusetts. (YJI photo)
Until then, my peers and I have found other ways to engage.
Civic participation isn’t limited to casting a ballot. Across the U.S., young people are organizing protests, advocating for climate action, racial justice, and gun reform. In Portland, thousands of students have marched out of class for causes they care about. They understand that while voting is important, it’s not the only form of democratic power.
At 17, I can’t vote, but I can still make myself heard. There’s journalism, there’s advocacy, there’s peaceful protest. Voting might be the most direct way to influence policy, but it’s not the only way to push for change.
In the end, what I want is for those who can vote this year to treat it like the opportunity it is — a freedom of democracy, one that many of us don’t yet have access to.
When I become eligible, I hope I will not take my vote for granted.
But right now, that’s up to you.
So, to those who have the power to vote this year: don’t take it lightly. Use it. Use it knowing that millions of us are still waiting, impatiently, for our turn.
Sincerely,
A future voter
Annamika Konkola is a Senior Reporter with Youth Journalism International.
