Letter to the Non-Voter
Sample
My family moved to the United States when I was two years old. I was born in one country, a citizen of another, a resident of neither in any real way. I carried a Social Security card. I renewed my green card, decade after decade. I kept my Canadian passport current, just in case anyone asked who I really was. I had every document a person could carry and still, I was an outsider. A legal alien. A documented immigrant. I had the paperwork. And despite what you may have heard elsewhere—I could not vote.
For decades, I worked here. I raised my children and paid my taxes here—every two weeks, without exception. I followed the laws. I contributed to the communities around me the way any decent neighbor does. If you’d met me on the street, you never would have guessed I wasn’t one of you. I was even required to register for Selective Service at eighteen—eligible for a draft, had one ever been called. And in return, I got the privilege of watching other people decide aspects of my future for me.