There I was, 16 years old, not old enough to drink but old enough to vote. I had just received my government-issued ID and voting was one of the things for which I could use it. It felt cool. For the first time in my life, I was going to “exercise my constitutional right.” It was 2008.
But my first time voting was also my last time voting. And not by choice.
De Nicaragua para el mundo. I write under an alias out of fear that my country will pursue me.