Election Year

A time to be heard. A chance to identify, to belong, to connect with others like us.

We run to our soapboxes armed with our predetermined soundbites—predetermined by people we want so desperately to believe have our best interests at heart, and we shout.

Flags planted firmly in the ground. Mouths open, ears and minds closed. The best aspects of democracy choked to death by fear and misunderstanding.

For want of winning so bad, we all lose.