Three months before Dorothy Day died, she wrote in her diary, “I went to jail in Washington, D.C. for woman's suffrage in the fall of 1917, but I have never voted." And throughout her life, she made no apologies for exercising her right NOT to vote. It seems contradictory for someone so involved in social affairs, but Dorothy did not put her faith in political candidates. She prayed and fasted, and lived the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. Her preoccupation was “how to bring about a revolution of the heart.”

Was it a coincidence that election day this year fell on Dorothy Day’s birthday? I have grown in my devotion to her, and I wondered if she could help me navigate this painful choice. Should I vote or not? Who would I vote for? I had attended a CL meeting on the topic, but still wasn’t sure what to do. I decided to pray a novena to Dorothy, and on the ninth day, which would be her birthday, make a short pilgrimage to her grave. On November 8th, I drove thirty minutes over the Verrazano Bridge to Resurrection Cemetery on Staten Island, with my two sons in tow. When we arrived at the sacred spot, there were two women dressed in pant suits, standing over her grave stone. To my horror, the stone was covered with “I voted” stickers! When I questioned the women about it, they told me one of their friends had done it because Dorothy was a great leader in the women’s suffrage movement. “But she never voted!” I protested. “Please, take these stickers off; it’s disrespectful.” The women were not happy with my request. I bent down and began removing them. They were already well stuck to the stone, so it was not easy.

One of the women said, “Please, don’t throw those stickers away. I will take them.”

At that moment, I understood that I was tearing away at something precious to these women. I also knew that Dorothy would not want any kind of violence happening at the place where she had been laid to rest. I very carefully pealed the stickers off so as not to rip them, and gave them to the women. They sang “Amazing Grace” and left. I knelt and prayed the rosary with my sons. My 10-year-old asked if he could lead the final mystery. As he was praying, another woman drew near and joined in for a bit and then got in her car, yelled out the window, “I love you, Dorothy!” and drove away.

The whole scene left me feeling very unsettled. I felt the wounds of these women, but had done very little to acknowledge them. I wished I had looked them in the eyes, spoken to them, invited them to pray.

Later that day, I went to the polls, but my candidate was not on the ballot. I wrote him in. The scanner rejected my vote, so I had to do it again, but was told I had to choose a name that was already there. I protested, but it did no good. I ended up checking off a candidate I didn’t want.

As we all know, Hillary Clinton won New York State, but lost the election. I’m sure it was a terrible blow to those women at Dorothy’s grave, and I have no doubt that it has left many others fearful and broken hearted. My encounter at Dorothy Day’s grave on November 8, 2016 gave me insight, sorrow, and a desire for reconciliation with my suffering sisters and the one true candidate who is already written on my heart.