Taxation Without Representation, a Baby, and a “Future Voter” Sticker

After spending most of my adult life in Washington, DC, I never thought voting in a Texas midterm election would feel quite so meaningful. But here we are.

Today is Election Day.

Across the country, approximately 250 million Americans are eligible to vote in the 2026 midterm elections, according to Pew Research Center. Some will be heading to the polls today, while others, like me, decided to get it over with early.

A couple of weeks ago, I did something that my younger Washington, DC self probably wouldn’t have gotten particularly excited about: I voted in a midterm election.

In Texas, of all places.

Now, before anyone gets too excited, this isn’t a political endorsement or a breakdown of who I voted for. That’s between me and my ballot. This is actually about something much more basic: the surprisingly refreshing feeling of having a vote that comes with congressional representation.

For most of my adult life, I lived in Washington, DC. And like many Washingtonians, I had a complicated relationship with voting.

I voted in presidential elections, of course. But when it came to midterms and other elections, I wasn’t exactly rushing to the polls. I had largely bought into the whole taxation without representation frustration.

After all, DC residents pay federal taxes, serve in the military, and contribute to the country just like everyone else. Yet we don’t have voting representation in Congress.

Yes, local elections matter. And yes, our presidential votes count. But when it came to Congress, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat disconnected from the process.

In fact, the last time I voted in an election where I could help elect a voting member of Congress, I was 24.

I’m now in my forties.

Let that sink in. I’ve had an entire career, become a mother, and developed an impressive collection of opinions about how government should function since then.

And yet, for all those years, I didn’t have a voting senator or representative in Congress.

When It Became Personal

For much of my career, I worked at USAID. I loved public service, even when the bureaucracy, politics, and endless layers of approvals tested my patience.

But when USAID began being dismantled and my colleagues and I found ourselves navigating the consequences, something about living in DC suddenly felt very different.

For the first time, I truly understood what it meant not to have congressional representation.

Here I was, a federal employee whose career had been upended by decisions made in Washington, living in Washington, and yet I didn’t have a voting member of Congress who represented me as a constituent.

Of course, DC has a nonvoting delegate who can advocate for residents. And there were members of Congress from other states who raised concerns about what was happening.

But it wasn’t quite the same as being able to call your own senator or representative and say, “I’m your constituent. This is affecting my livelihood. What are you doing about it?”

That distinction became painfully clear.

It wasn’t just about whether someone would agree with me politically or even whether they could change the outcome. It was about having someone who was accountable to me as a voter.

And after that experience, a part of me never wanted to be in that position again.

Voting With a Baby: A Whole New Experience

Of course, exercising my newly appreciated civic duty came with one small logistical complication.

A baby.

As I’ve learned over the past several months, doing just about anything with an infant requires the planning skills of a military operation. Voting, apparently, is no exception.

First, you have to work around nap times. Then you have to figure out where to vote, how long the lines are, and whether your baby is going to tolerate the entire experience.

Our first attempt was at a local library. The line stretched all the way out to the street, and the estimated wait was around two hours.

Two hours.

With a baby.

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

So we regrouped, found another early voting location at an activity center, and tried again.

This time, success! From standing in line to casting my ballot, the whole process took about 20 minutes.

And then came the great disappointment of the day.

They were out of “I Voted” stickers.

After all that planning, I couldn’t even get my little badge of civic participation.

But they did have a “Future Voter” sticker for Baby J.

And somehow, that felt even better.

Here I was, voting in a congressional election for the first time in years, with my daughter along for the experience.

She obviously had no idea what was happening, but I hope that one day voting will be something she grows up seeing as a normal and important part of life.

Preferably with shorter lines.

A New State, A Different Perspective

There are so many things I miss about Washington, DC.

I miss my neighborhood, my friends, the walkability, the restaurants, and the life I spent years building there. DC was home for a long time, and a part of it always will be.

But the lack of congressional representation?

Yeah, I don’t miss that.

And I have to admit, this is the first time in many years that I’ve had such big hopes riding on a midterm election.

Not because I think one election will magically fix everything. I’ve worked in government long enough to know that democracy is rarely that straightforward.

But after the last couple of years, elections feel much more personal.

I know firsthand how decisions made in Washington can upend people’s careers, livelihoods, and plans for the future.

And while a single vote might seem insignificant in the grand scheme of things, there’s something reassuring about knowing that I have a voice in choosing the people who will represent me.

People whose offices I can contact. People I can question. People I can hold accountable, even if I didn’t vote for them.

That’s something I won’t take for granted again.

Waiting to Exhale

So here we are. Election Day 2026.

And for the first time in a very long time, I’m genuinely anxious about the outcome of a midterm election.

I have hopes. Big ones, actually.

But beyond the political implications, I think what I’m really looking for is a little clarity about what comes next.

The past year and a half has been a whirlwind. Losing a career I spent nearly two decades building, becoming a mother, relocating to a new state, and trying to figure out my next chapter have all happened while the political landscape continues to shift beneath my feet.

There are days when I feel like I’ve finally figured out a plan, only to realize that so much remains outside my control.

And maybe that’s why this election feels different.

It’s not just about who wins or loses. It’s about the direction the country is heading and what that might mean for my own future.

Will I eventually return to public service? Will I continue building a new career outside of government? Will the next few years take me in an entirely different direction?

I don’t have all the answers yet.

And while we may not know every election result tonight, I’m hoping that over the coming days, I’ll have a slightly clearer picture of what the next couple of years might look like.

Maybe I can finally exhale a little.

Regardless of the outcome, I’m glad I voted.

I’m glad I got to experience what it feels like to have congressional representation again.

And I’m especially glad that Baby J got to accompany me for the occasion.

After all, she may not have understood what was happening, but she walked away with the one thing I couldn’t get.

An election sticker.

I guess the next generation is already doing better than mine.

WordPress Excerpt

After decades of living in Washington, DC, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to vote for congressional representation. My experience at USAID changed that. So, armed with an infant, a carefully planned nap schedule, and a little hope, I headed to the polls in Texas. Here’s why this midterm election feels different.