A few years ago I moved back to upstate NY, to the small town where I was born and raised. If I’m being completely honest, I was a bit apprehensive.
I grew up in rural upstate NY, in a predominantly white, small town. While school, friends, television, radio, and the entire outside world taught me what it meant to be American, my father's stories taught me what it meant to be Circassian.
How could two people from opposite sides of a horrendous conflict find common ground and build a life together? What caused them to leave everything familiar, and take a chance on a new life in America?
I thought I always appreciated our right to vote. However, this year, because of an offhand comment and a lifetime of stories, I have a newfound sense of gratitude.