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Muna Hussaini walked into her polling station near Austin, Texas, with her daughter on Election Day. Her excitement was weighed down by fear.

Now a mother of two, Hussaini was born and raised in the United States to immigrant parents from India. But as a Muslim woman who wears hijab, she's seen firsthand the angry and xenophobic rhetoric that still plagues this country. Sometimes, she still feels unsafe in her rightful home.

"This election has wreaked havoc on our family as Muslims, who have continued to look on in horror as women, Latinos, Blacks, gays ... so many have been denigrated," she confessed in a private post to tens of thousands of strangers in Pantsuit Nation, a secret Facebook group. (Her post is shared here with permission.)


"These people and their views will still be here after the election. And who will now be walking around with a target on their back?"

Photo by Muna Hussaini, used with permission.

Hussaini watched her 8-year-old daughter press the buttons in the voting booth. She cried.

"Is it true, Mom, do Obama and Hillary think it's OK for two men to marry each other?" her daughter asked. "That's what one kid said at school today and why I should vote for Trump."

Hussaini replied: "Baby, what if tomorrow someone said we can't eat meat because it's against their religious beliefs?"

Her daughter paused to process the thought before agreeing that it wouldn't be fair.

"That's right, sweet love," Hussaini said. "That's the beauty of democracy in the USA. No one's religion gets to be more important than other people's beliefs. That's called separation of church and state. And you can't pick and choose, otherwise tomorrow, someone will get to tell Mommy to take her scarf off. If two dads want to marry, we have to fight for their right to do so. We have to show up and vote."

Photo by Sean Gallup/Getty Images.

Tuesday morning was full of hope and inspiration for the Hussaini family. But the next day, they woke up to an opposite feeling.

Like many parents, Hussaini tries not to push too many worldviews on her daughter. But on Wednesday morning after Election Day, that was simply unavoidable.

Her daughter was terrified of being kicked out of the country she was born in, with an impenetrable wall between her and her friends. She asked, in detail, questions about passports, contingencies, and travel plans and whether it was even safe for her to go school.

Hussaini did her best to explain how the government works — that there's a Constitution and three separate branches with a system of checks and balances built in to make sure no one has too much power.

She told her daughter, "We want to be positive, because as Americans, we believe in our laws and [that] people are generally good" — even though, she noted, she wasn't even sure if she believed those words herself.

But sometimes, she said, you need to believe in something, even if it's just to hearing yourself say it. Sometimes that's what it takes to get by.

Photo by Andrew Biraj/AFP/Getty Images.

"What would be helpful [now] is knowing I'm not alone," Hussaini told me. "That if hate comes out in full force that I can keep my family safe."

"I'm an American citizen, born and raised, and I don't feel safe or comfortable. I don't know when my rights are going to be infringed upon and if they will, what I am supposed to do.

I want to know that my freedom of religion is covered.

I want to know that my freedom of speech is still safe.





I want to know that America is still for me."

In 2016, the American melting pot is more diverse than ever before, and it's showing in who's heading to the ballot box on Nov. 8.

Despite warnings of low-voter turnout, a record-breaking 200 million people are registered to vote in the upcoming election. A large portion of that figure represents new U.S. citizens casting ballots for the very first time. If early indicators have told us anything, it's that these folks are putting their votes where their livelihoods are.

An early voting location in St. Petersburg, Florida. Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images.


We spoke to four first-time voters from across the country who are also new U.S. citizens. Here's what they had to say about the 2016 presidential election.

(Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.)

Julissa Arce: A 33-year-old author from Los Angeles, California, who became a citizen in 2014.

"I had sacrificed so much to be able to be in this country. And to finally be recognized by my country as one of its citizens was a really beautiful moment."

Julissa speaking at The Berkeley Forum. Image via Julissa Arce, used with permission.

Why Julissa feels so strongly about voting: "If you don't vote, then you're letting someone else make decisions about how you're going to live your life. This election in particular, I can't fathom not going out and voting. It's the most critical election in our lifetime."

Who she's planning on voting for: "I'm voting for Hillary. And by the way, I'm not voting for Hillary because she's not Donald Trump. I'm voting for Hillary because I truly believe she's the best person, the most qualified candidate, to lead our country."

A critical issue she thinks needs more attention: "The media coverage around climate change hasn't been there. It's like a couple sentences here and there. And the reality is if we don't have a planet, none of these other things matter."

Her thoughts on Donald Trump: "The silver lining is that we have a clearer picture of the work that has to get done. The reason Donald Trump is where he is is because there are literally millions of other people who think like he does, who believe in the things he believes in. While that's a scary thought, it also shines a light on the fact that these issues have never gone away: racism, sexism, bigotry, xenophobia. It's not that they didn't exist in our country; they were buried."

Robin Wood-Mason: A 31-year-old director of development at a nonprofit preschool, who lives in Denver, Colorado, and became a citizen in 2014.

"The folks that think they'll just sit the election out — as a new citizen, it absolutely infuriates me that people take that process for granted and don't give it the respect that it deserves."

Image via Robin Wood-Mason, used with permission.

On misconceptions about immigrants: "It was interesting being a white male and being an immigrant [from the U.K.] and seeing how people perceive you differently. When you say, 'immigrant,' people assume Latino and other people of color, and it's been bizarre seeing how different people have responded to learning that about me."

The most important issue this election cycle: "The biggest thing for me has been the Supreme Court and wanting to make sure that whoever gets to appoint the next two to three justices shares a lot of my values. Hillary Clinton and the Democratic party far better align with what I think America's real values are or should be. We might actually be able to have a Supreme Court that values diversity and progressive issues and makes sure that people get to live with a sense of equality."

On his passionate support for Hillary Clinton: "My husband will tell you that I'm addicted to hitting the donate button in almost every one of the emails [sent from her campaign]."

An issue he thinks should be making more headlines this election: "I would like to see more conversation around renewing our support for AIDS research. Things like [HIV prevention drug] PrEP — making that widely available through Medicaid and Medicare — and coming up with other sources of funding for us to make sure we're really putting an end to the HIV epidemic, particularly as it's shifted away from being 'the gay guys' disease' that it was in the late '80s and '90s. Now that it's hitting people that are using injection drugs, and it's shifted into being more about poverty than anything else — how can we address that?"

Barbara Cenalmor: A 43-year-old engineer from Chandler, Arizona, who became a citizen in 2013.

"As a legal resident, you pretty much can do anything that a citizen can do except vote. And for me, I wanted to be able to vote — not only for president, but also on local level politics. It really affects my kids, my kids' schools, the city where I live."

Image via Barbara Cenalmor, used with permission.

Her take on a two-party system: "To me, it seems like the two-party system has not worked well. I think this year it's become clear that voting for the party does not work; it does not work for a lot of people. I've been here for other elections — and I've been in Spain, where elections are pretty brutal too — but how it's turning into some kind of reality TV show where everybody just rips everybody apart. It's stressing me out."

On disliking Trump...: "I definitely don't want Trump to be the president."

...but disliking Clinton only slightly less: "I'm a little bit disappointed with myself [for planning to vote for Clinton]. But I think that, if I didn't vote and then Trump won, I would be mad at myself — especially if he wins by a small margin."

On voting for things other than the presidency: "The two big propositions in Arizona, which [are] recreational marijuana and the minimum wage, I think they're huge. I'm still reading through them. I'm one of those people that, unfortunately, I cannot make decisions until I've done an incredible amount of research, which I know is exhausting. [laughs] It's just my personality."

On the outside world's view of Donald Trump: "I actually traveled to different European countries this summer, and everywhere I went, the question was, 'That's a joke right? He's not a real candidate?' It's embarrassing."  

A critical issue she thinks needs more attention: "One of the most important issues lately is race and police. I don't think it's being very well addressed by either candidate. I don't think it's been a big focus, and it's a huge thing that's happening in the country — race relations in general. We need to sit down and figure out what's going on and how do we fix this."

Juan Carlos D. Ruiz Durán: A 29-year-old student from Olympia, Washington, who became a citizen in 2013.

"As a first time voter, I feel like I'm actually participating in the overall conversation more because I have these privileges now. Permanent residency almost makes you a second-class citizen — you get some benefits but not all. You can get a job here, live here, own a house, but you can't vote."  

Image via Juan Carlos D. Ruiz Durån, used with permission.

On why he stays focused on the issues — not the politics: "I would say, as far as the overall political system, I'm not totally engaged, but I am engaged in the activist side of it which advocates for diversity and equity within college, school, access to resources, and people's rights."

Why he's voting with higher education in mind: "I think, as far as our society goes, that's really where a lot of innovation and creativity comes from — college. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs [who both didn't graduate from college] are not typical examples of innovators."

On voting for Hillary Clinton after supporting Bernie Sanders: "Hillary has a lot more experience; she also has a problematic past. And it's not like I'm forgetting about that, but comparing that to the Republican base, which, to me, is just fanatical, like espousing the most ignorant stuff I've heard — and a few of my family are also Republican, who say the same stuff, the same problematic language — I've just transitioned [to supporting Clinton]. The lesser of two evils in a sense. But I'm optimistic policy will be more progressive."

On social justice around race playing a role this election: "There are extremes, but in the middle, there is a concise, very direct message: Stop killing black people and indigenous women and men and immigrant folks. That's really what's made this election cycle more colorful in that sense — you can see a lot more of people's colors and their opinions than before."

The coolest thing about our democracy is that it doesn't matter where you live or where you come from — you can have a seat at the table.

You just have to vote.

Not sure if you're registered?Find out now.

Wondering what day your state's registration deadline is? There's a website for that.

And don't forget — you might live in a state with same-day registration.

Don't watch from the sidelines Nov. 8. Make your voice heard.

When I was a first-generation immigrant kid in the late-1980s, Ronald Reagan was president.

It was a big deal. I didn't even know whether he was Republican or Democrat, but I knew he was a good man. People liked him. He had my family and my community's respect. I also knew he had been an actor, but that wasn't what defined him or his presidency.

Image by J. David Ake/AFP/Getty Images.


When I was a kid, I could walk to and from Arizona to Mexico without too much of a fuss.

Because I'm the only U.S. citizen in my immediate family (born in Tucson, Arizona), I always felt a special sense of pride in being able to say "U.S. citizen" before the customs agent waved me across.

When I was kid, I wasn't scared the government would deport my parents.

Maybe it's because I knew my parents and my older brother and sister had permanent residence cards. They became U.S. citizens about 10 years ago, once I was grown up, but still, I never even worried about the words "resident alien" on my family's passport cards when I was younger.

Image by iStock.

When I was a kid, I wasn’t aware of the fact that I was an “other.”

When I turned on the television, I never saw families that looked like mine, but I was oblivious that I wasn't represented in Hollywood. As long as I enjoyed the actors and the storyline in any given TV show or movie, life was grand. Representation wasn't an issue because I was unaware I was a minority. No one treated me differently. I thought everyone was just like me, Mexican-American — made up of two cultures.

When I was a kid, it really did feel like you could accomplish anything with hard work. It was "Morning in America."

My family was considered middle-to-upper class. It felt like we had a fighting chance in the land of opportunity. My father was the owner of a successful auto parts wholesale warehouse. He also owned at least a dozen rental properties on both sides of the border that kept us living comfortably. It felt like that sense of financial security would last forever. The devastating devaluation of the peso wasn't an issue ... yet.

My family and I posing at one of my dad's business locales in Mexico in the late-1980s.

When I was a kid, I knew that people were engaged in the political process, but they didn’t live and breathe it like some do today.

I remember picking up snippets of news here and there, hearing about politics from my parents, neighbors, maybe teachers at school. But there was no constant barrage of information. I knew who my parents were endorsing in election years. I also knew who was running in the Mexican presidential election. But that news was delivered either via newspaper or the TV news, promptly at 5 or 10 p.m. That was it.

When I was a kid, I felt that if I got a good grades, everything else would just fall into place.

My parents didn’t have to worry about how to pay for my tuition. I felt secure that the opportunity to attend college was readily available if I worked hard and earned the grades to get in. I knew it was up to me how far I wanted to get in school too. The idea of "how are my parents going to pay for this?" was never a factor when I was accepted into grad school. The fact that I don't have student debt is a blessing.

Image via iStock.

Now, I’m an adult. I live in Phoenix, Arizona. And I see things with a lot more clarity and cautious optimism.

Today, I'm worried about my nieces and nephews and their children, and about first-generation immigrant kids everywhere.

I want them to have what I had growing up. I want them to live without fear of being discriminated against, without the financial burden of taking out high-interest loans to pay for college. I want them to know that, in spite of the constant downpour of any salacious or unnecessary details related to the 2016 presidential election, the process matters.

Today, I have no idea what the border checkpoints would look like under a Trump presidency, let alone his plan to build a giant 10-foot-tall wall.

Part of the proposed structure would be built right smack in my hometown. It would send a divisive message of "us versus Mexico" — literally and figuratively.

The border fence that separates Nogales, Arizona, from Nogales, Mexico. Image by Alicia E. Barrón.

Today, many kids are scared to death that their parents will be deported back to their country of origin.

Kids today are more aware about social issues (like illegal immigration) than I was as a child in the late-1980s, and a presidential candidate publicly calling Mexicans "rapists" and "criminals" is part of that. Some kids saw that and they are well aware of how that candidate feels. There were no minced words. They worry that they don't belong.

Today, many minority kids are more likely to feel like they are a minority.

The racial divide has never been more apparent.

Image via iStock.

Today, for many folks, America can feel more like the land of little-to-no-opportunity.

If Trump wins, it feels like another win for “the man,” for the top 1% — with nothing to offer lower- and middle-class families. I worry that the opportunity to get ahead will not be the same for everyone across the board. I worry that the children of my family and friends won't be able to fight for their dreams. I fear that Trump's anti-immigrant rhetoric will further rub off on society.

Today, politics are everywhere.

We no longer have to wait for the daily newspaper or the evening news to hear the highlights.We’re infiltrated with every single news tidbit throughout the day via social media and constant TV coverage. It's exhausting. It’s difficult. It's almost impossible to have an objective opinion about the world (much less politics) because of the filter bubble.

Sometimes, I fear that we are all over-informed and that we're not talking about the issues that affect our everyday lives, like LGBTQ rights or who will be appointed to the Supreme Court.

The last presidential debate. Image by Mark Ralston/AFP/Getty Images.

Today, I worry about how the heck kids are paying for college.

Today, even if you have stellar grades, you worry about how to pay for your education. Today, if I wanted an education, I would be one of millions taking out a student loan. The last thing I want is for my nieces and nephews to graduate with a mountain of debt I never had to endure.

But despite all of this, today, I am still hopeful we can make progress.

What I had and saw as a child in America can still exist, in some sense. And the choice to make progress is ours to make.

We can choose to tell -generation immigrant kids that they matter and they belong in America. We can choose to make progress on issues that affect all kinds of people, not just the wealthiest among us. We can choose to create systems that make education accessible, not prohibitive. We can choose progress and more opportunities for all. We can choose to live in a country where dreams come true. We can choose all of this because we live in a democracy.

As a first-generation immigrant, I'm incredibly proud to be an American.

I was given opportunities to succeed. I am where I am today because of America.

That's why it's super important to me, and to other people who know how great America is, that we all cast our vote for the kind of America that doesn't build walls or function on fear. On Nov. 8, let's not waste this choice that we have.

There's way too much at stake.

What are you doing on Election Day?

No, what are you doing on Election Day besides balling yourself up in a Snuggie under a heat lamp with two dozen cheese sticks, listening to Cat Stevens, and whispering "It'll all be over soon." as you rock back and forth on your couch?

If you're like millions of other Americans — you're going to work.


For some, doing one's job on Election Day is a great distraction that makes it possible to fill out a color-coded meeting calendar and chat up Chris from accounting while pretending that the world isn't either coming to an end or becoming, at the least, an interesting "Battlestar Galactica" B story.

The perils of low turnout. GIF from "Battlestar Galactica."

For others, going to work on Election Day makes it damned near impossible to vote.

Estimates show that only 57.5% of eligible voters voted in 2012. That's lower than most other countries in the developed world. Belgium, guys. Belgium is kicking our ass.

There's a pretty simple reason for this: Election Day is on a freaking Tuesday, ascheduling decision that made perfect sense in 1845, when America's election days were standardized. Sunday was the sabbath, so traveling that day to make it to your polling place on Monday was out. And farmers had to go to market on Wednesdays. Back then, lots of people were farmers and many were uber-religious, so Tuesday it was!

Now, it's 2016. Most of us don't farm anymore. And even the more God-inclined among us tend to use a car on Sundays. Yet, Election Day remains on a Tuesday, the least distinctive, and arguably most depressing, day of the work week.

Fortunately, there's a really easy solution that could vault us right back ahead of Belgium!

We could make Election Day a national holiday.

Just give everyone the day off already. President Obama thinks we should do it. Bernie Sanders thinks we should do it. And if Bernie Sanders thinks we should do it, Donald Trump will probably pretend to think we should do it too.

There are plenty of reasons to do it. It makes democracy more democratic, for one. It's humane to people who work long hours at demanding jobs, for another. Not to mention it associates voting — a boring activity — with chill vacation vibes. Voting would become something people look forward to.

Most Americans don't benefit from the current election model where we all vote on a Tuesday. Only a few of us do. For the most part, those of us who do benefit from it don't need the help getting to the polls.

Mostly because our current election model really only benefits people like...

1. Extremely rich people

Make that money fly! Photo via iStock.

For America's super rich — your Mark Cubans, your Koch Brothers, your Elon Musks — every day is a national holiday, including the second Tuesday of November.

Consider the following mega-rich people possibilities:

A. They don't have a job, because they're so rich they don't have to work.

B. They do have a job, at which they are the boss and, therefore, can do whatever they want whenever they want.

Right now, it is insanely easy for bazillionaires to vote. And that's OK! Rich people should vote. But it should be just as easy for non-rich people to vote. If not, you get stuff like the slow phase out and (mercifully temporary) repeal of the estate tax and tax deductions for yachts with sleeping quarters.  

I'm not saying those things aren't good policy. What I'm saying is, they're atrocious policy designed, self-servingly, to benefit a cohort that is least in need of a break and has disproportionate access to the levers of power. The only way for regular people to get their priorities taken seriously is to increase their numbers at the ballot box.

But regular people gots to work, bro. They can't get to the polls.

So let's give them the day off.

2. Writers who work from home and have their polling place in the building across the street.

Oh boy, is it ever easy for me to vote! You have no idea.

Two thumbs up for my face. Photo by Eric March/Upworthy.

All I have to do is take a leisurely 20-foot stroll to the school I can see from my window, wait in line for less than five minutes, grab my sticker, and shuffle right back to my laptop. Not only that, my boss probably won't even know I've gone anywhere because we don't work in the same room together.

A 2005 study published in the Journal of Politics — that reviewed data from the 2000 presidential race and a local election in Atlanta — found that predicted probability of voting goes down the further you have to travel to get to your polling place. For voters without a vehicle, the drop-off is even greater.

For people who have a long commute on top of a job where they don't get a lunch break, the prospect of having to fight the after-work rush in an hours-long line to vote, and the whole process starts to seem a whole lot less rewarding.

I've made it pretty clear who I hope does not become president. Maybe you disagree with me. Or, you agree with me just this once, but plan to not agree with me next time. And it's so easy for me to vote, guys. And I'm part of the so-called media elite! I'm everything many people are saying is wrong with America.

It should be as easy for you to cancel out my vote as it is for me to cast it.

You can't do that if you have to work.

So let's make sure no one has to work on Election Day.

3. Lastly, our current election model benefits people who want fewer people to be able to vote.

If you believe that democracy works better when more people participate, then letting everyone take the day off on Election Day probably seems pretty rad. If, however, you're worried that your political beliefs are so unpopular that the only way to ram them through into law is by forcing people who might vote against them to work on Election Day, then the status quo is pretty hunky-dory.

North Carolina Governor Pat McCrory signed a voter ID law in 2013 that was struck down by a federal court for its explicit intent to disenfranchise black voters. His face is huge in this picture. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

If you're a fan of Voter ID laws, which solve a voter fraud problem that doesn't exist while also — would you believe it! — depressing the young and non-white vote, then the more people who can't get to the polls because they're trudging to work on Election Day, the better.

If you like moving polling places away from where black people live, then you probably don't want them having the day off to vote at a leisurely clip on Election Day either.

If you're a fan of restricting early voting hours, you're probably also a fan of keeping baristas across America working two shifts all through early November to make sure they can't get to the polls either.

If, however, you believe that people have the right to vote and should be able to exercise that right easily, regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or, most critically in this case, employment status, then your preference should be clear...

...an all-day, nationwide snow day on Election Day.

There's really nothing stopping us from doing this, people.

Our Election Day holiday doesn't have to be dry and boring either. We could make it a real celebration! Start a tradition where we all get our mothers cards, or bake pecan pies, or listen to the patriotic hits of Kate Smith that day, or something. Hell, swap it with Columbus Day! It's around the same time of year, it could easily be adopted in all states, not just some, and it doesn't celebrate the derivative wanderings of a genocidal maniac!

Voting is too important for only slightly-more-than-half of America to do it. It's too important for only the wealthy, the retired, the unemployed, and the people with cushy media jobs to partake in. It's too important to not require a day off to make sure everyone gets a chance to make their voice heard.

Make Election Day a national holiday. Who's with me?