My name is not important. What is important is where I come from. I was born and raised in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, in a house where my grandmother kept a Bible on the kitchen table and a list of poll tax receipts in a shoebox under her bed — proof that she had paid, again and again, for a right that should have been free. She voted anyway, every chance she got, dressed like she was going to church, because she said democracy deserved your best.
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