On November 6, 2016, I woke up at 5am and headed to a San Francisco museum, preparing myself for a 12-hour shift as a poll worker. While to some, the job of a poll worker may appear mundane and tedious, I was eager and excited the entire 12 hours.  I spent the day witnessing the joy people experience after dropping their ballot in the bin—our democracy in action.

Although I was only 16 and could not vote at the time, I felt empowered by merely watching others cast their vote. Two and a half years later, on my 18^th birthday, I registered to vote with a group of friends. I eagerly awaited my registration card and my new role in our democracy. This past June, I cast my very first vote.When I received my ballot and told the poll workers and voters around me I was a first-time voter, they all expressed their excitement for me. At first, I was a bit surprised. Why were all these strangers so excited that I was voting? But, as I closed the curtain and filled out my ballot, I began to understand their excitement.

With each ballot mark, I became more and more proud. I was proud to vote for a candidate whose values aligned with mine and for measures I thought were beneficial to my community. I was a small piece of major decisions that would affect me, my family, friends, school, and city. I finally had a voice in a system that often appeared so distant from me.