2024 Election: Are We Ready for This?

Don’t get me wrong—every election matters, but this one? This one feels different. November 5, 2024, isn’t just another checkbox in history; it’s a fork in the road, and no matter which path we take, it’s bound to be messy. The “peaceful transfer of power” sounds nice on paper, but it hasn't felt that way since 2020. Last time, a certain someone and his “Band of Unmerry Followers” decided democracy was optional. They stormed the Capitol, put lives at risk, and then called it a “patriotic misunderstanding.” Even after a trial declared it an attempted coup, deniers still abound.

So, what do I want from this election? I want to feel safe. Well, safer, at least—because honestly, I’ve never really felt safe in this country. I want to believe that all lives matter and that our rules exist for a reason. Instead, I’m hearing murmurs of a “Civil War II.” Are we really on that brink again?

The original Civil War was about racism, economic disparities, and human rights. If potential civil conflict arises after this election, what does that tell us? That it’s still about race? We’ve been saying that for years, but now it’s right there in black and white—pun intended.

Let’s not forget that women couldn’t make independent decisions until 1974, when they could finally get a credit card without a man’s approval and gained control over reproductive rights. That was only 50 years ago. So, when folks talk about “making America great again,” are they longing for a past where America wasn’t great for everyone? Funny, isn’t it? That’s exactly the sentiment that fueled the first Civil War.

We’re at the crossroads of history once more. It’s more than an election—it’s a reflection of who we are, what we stand for, and whether we’re willing to confront our contradictions.

Some serious changes need to happen, and agreeing to disagree doesn’t work when rights are at stake. It’s impossible to say, “I love women,” while denying them autonomy over their bodies.

At the core of the pro-life argument is control. When someone wants to delay having children until they're ready, that’s smart planning. But many pro-lifers believe a person should be forced to give birth—essentially as punishment. But let’s ask a simple question: if that child is born, who’s going to raise it? Parenting is a lifelong commitment, not just 18 years.

Take the pandemic, for example. No one saw it coming, yet parents had to manage. Rent soared by 18% in 2021 and another 12% in 2022. Today, 30% of the average person’s income goes to rent, while the federal minimum wage remains at $7.25 an hour. On that wage, annual income is only $14,000—nowhere near enough when childcare alone costs at least $25,000 a year. If parenting truly ends at 18, why can’t 18-year-olds buy alcohol? Why isn’t the brain fully developed until 25? Magic must happen somewhere in between.

Then, there’s mental readiness. Think about a ten-year-old raped by a relative. Too young to understand pregnancy, let alone parenting. Shouldn’t children be born into homes that are ready to nurture them?

Support, or the lack of it, matters too. Not every family will “pick up the torch” when someone needs help. We’re conditioned to let others fail as a consequence of their mistakes—a “that’s what you get” tax. And let’s be real, many people find satisfaction in watching others struggle. Maybe it’s time they found a hobby instead.

Race is the elephant in the room. We claim we’re beyond it, but how can we be when we refuse to talk about it? Therapy is encouraged for healing personal trauma—so why can’t the country sit down and acknowledge its foundation on slavery, and the struggles women, immigrants, and Black people faced for their rights? Even then, these rights were granted by the patriarchy and are often violated.

As messy as this country is, change only happens when we show up—whether in the streets, our communities, or at the polls. Voting isn’t just a box to check; it’s an opportunity to drive change. Every vote is a step toward creating the world we want to see, no matter how slow the process might seem. We can’t afford to sit this out and hope things get better. If we want to move beyond the dysfunction, it starts with us.