In her own words...
In memory of Felicitas C. Segura.
A strong woman, beloved by many.
Before I began working on this opportunity, I had originally planned to interview my 86 year old Great-Grandmother, whom I called “Granny”. Unfortunately, days before she could lend me her guidance and speak of her heartfelt memories like we usually would, my Granny passed on. To commemorate her wisdom and light, I continue on with this opportunity and write about the experiences my Grandma endured as one of the first women to vote in my family.
Across the wooden dining table, my Grandma and I sit face to face with only a clear vase of fake decorative peppers between us. She talks of her memories, even some of the crazier moments like that of her “pink petticoat being burnt by the family radiator”. And although, it had been a difficult two weeks prior, we shared our company as she described the first time she voted.
“I remember meeting up with my best friend, Rosie, inside of South San High School. She and I were 19 at the time, and the election of 1972 had been the first year we were able to actually vote.”
Just one year before, those who were younger than 21 were unable to vote during the elections in a majority of states. That all changed when many adults realized that 18 year olds were not only old enough to vote, but responsible enough as well. My Grandma was 18 years old when President Richard Nixon formally certified the 26th Amendment, granting those, like herself, the right to vote.
“Before my class, no one could even think of voting. I think that’s why it felt almost overwhelming, because now so many more people, including young women, had been given a voice along with their freedom and adulthood. And for once, it finally felt like I could do something about the state of our country.”
Along with her and others' protests, she grew scared and tired of the knowledge that people she knew would have to sacrifice their life for a war that never seemed to stop. “There were too many people being killed on both sides, and I felt that we shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place.” That year, my Grandma voted to “put an end to the war¨, as she called it.
Time flew by as we stayed talking about what seemed like a million memories. Each giving me a little more insight and curiosity than the last. I would’ve wished we could talk forever that night, but my Grandma enjoys her sleep. So, before I finished the interview, I asked her what I believe to be the most important question of all: “What barriers did you face as a woman voting in 1972?”
“The comments.”, she said.
“When I voted, everything seemed to be fine. At most, I was judged for how young I looked so the onboarding analysts had me show them my driver’s license. But as I walked away with Rosie, it felt like the judgement reached far beyond my age.”
My Grandma was never turned away for being a woman who exercised her right to vote, but was talked down upon by the anti-suffragists of her high school. Like countless other women, she was told that her only ability was to be a housewife who took care of the kids for the fathers. That her voting wasn’t necessary if she couldn’t provide a useful opinion about political issues.
“I never let them get to me, because look what we have now. We have hard working women in all industries. In every walk of life, there is a woman who is just as capable as the next. It doesn’t matter where you come from or who you are, as long as you believe in yourself and use your voice because women are so much more than what sexist beliefs make us out to be. We have a purpose, and we have a vote. So we should use it.”
Equal rights in voting for minorities has come a long from where it first began, and for my generation it seems like now more than ever it is crucial to have your voice heard through your vote. Which is why I hope to continue this conversation with those young and old around me. To share not only the importance, but the meaning of having a 100 years of voting for all, because, in the end, every voice deserves to be heard.