Sanchez has a rare sensory condition called synesthesia, which affects 2 to 4% of the human population, according to the National Center for Biotechnology Information. In a nutshell, synesthesia, which is Greek for “to perceive together,” involves crossed sensory information. More specifically, Sanchez has grapheme synesthesia—she associates words, numbers and letters with specific colors that she sees in her mind’s eye. Monday is watermelon red. Three is blue. Q is turquoise. On top of that, seasons, months, numbers and days of the week also have visual-spatial representations for her. Winter is in the back of her head, while summer is in the front. Numbers follow a staircase pattern.

While this might seem like an anomaly to others, Sanchez has always perceived the world this way. “It’s always there,” she said. “If I’m reading a book or a street sign or anything that has words on it, my mind associates it with the color.” Her everyday sensory experience was so constant that she assumed it was normal. In fact, it wasn’t until a sixth grade presentation that she found out about synesthesia. “[The teacher] was talking about how people read colors and listen to colors,” she said. “I was like, ‘Wait, I do that. Is that not normal?’”

After conducting some personal research, Sanchez confirmed that she did, in fact, have synesthesia. From then on, it became something to share; positive interest from classmates and friends encouraged her to be more open about her experiences. “Last year, in my philosophy class, we were talking about what color means to different people, and somehow I mentioned that I had synesthesia,” she said. “For the next 45 minutes, everyone in the class had their hands up, and I sat at the front of the table answering questions about it.”

For the record, she doesn’t mind the questions. Joining the synesthete community has also allowed her to ask her own questions about the spectrum of synesthesia. “I didn’t know that almost everyone who has synesthesia sees the months in a circle and sees the weekdays in a circle,” she said. “I was like, ‘I do that! I see it!’ Mine goes clockwise, and I heard that some people’s go counterclockwise.”

While it has given her solidarity to compare a unique aspect of her brain with other synesthetes, research has also shown her that experiences with synesthesia vary—a fact that she emphasizes for non-synesthetes. Some synesthetes might feel sounds, see music or taste in color. Everyone’s experience is different.

She hopes to spread awareness about the condition through her creative pursuits like writing and art. To the skeptics, she notes that synesthesia is a real biological phenomenon. “It’s a misconception that [synesthetes] develop associations over time,” she said. “In reality, it’s not something that we can control. I could paint as many pink letter L’s as I want all over my room, but it’s still going to be blue in my head.”

Ultimately, synesthesia is not just something for show. It’s a part of Sanchez’s lifestyle and her identity, and it has its perks and drawbacks. To her, having synesthesia has improved her memorization the most; she can simply slot a friend’s birthday into her visual calendar. At the same time, however, she might easily mix up new vocabulary words with similar colors. Similar confusion in math can lead to unforced slip-ups, like writing an eight instead of a four because they’re both yellow.

Despite it all, Sanchez doesn’t consider synesthesia to be a disease, disorder or shortcoming of any sort. “I wouldn’t say that it changed my perception of myself,” she said. “It’s just kind of like a quirky little fun fact that always gets people interested.”

Not only is it our off year, but it’s 2020. It’s no secret that family gatherings are hardly viable. As the holidays approach, we’ll have to settle for celebrations like we do school: isolated and through our screens. As awkward as virtual family gatherings can be, it’s important to value time with relatives; it’s all we’ll get during the pandemic.

My extended family began regular Zoom calls at the start of shelter-in-place. Every other week at 5:45 p.m. on Sunday, my three-headed family Zooms in from the living room to interface with three generations of relatives from all of the way across town, state and country.

As an introvert, I can testify that virtual family reunions are incredibly awkward.

It begins with the stilted greetings and progresses to interrogation-style updates on people’s past few weeks. The cousins pass the spotlight like a hot potato: some freely elaborating, others saying as little as possible. I spend half of the meetings dreading my turn and the other half listening as the conversation swerves from job applications to my aunt’s paralyzed pet bird to how to brew the best liquor. It’s patchy at best.

Some of my cousins are in college; some are past college. Some of them are older than me by five years; some surpass me by fifteen. Some attended the same school as me, but more had their childhoods before I came into existence. Under normal circumstances, I’d only see them once a year for a single glowing evening of laughter and light—and even then, I might only exchange a few words with them. Yet somehow, despite the pandemic, I’m seeing them more than I typically would.

We’re a motley crew, and only a handful of people carry the conversation. Still, without these family Zooms every weekend, I wouldn’t have known that one relative got engaged, another won a songwriting contest and another asked a girl on a date for the first time. While virtual gatherings can’t hold a candle to the crackling fireplace of a Thanksgiving evening, they’re the best we can do (and, for the record, they’re far more amusing). Given our circumstances, I’ll settle with that.

First, public proposals or similar romantic gestures take place in an unhealthy, potentially disingenuous situation. Consider the perspective of the recipient: it’s a Very Important Question to answer on the spot while people observe. Not only that, the moment might be recorded without consent, posted and broadcasted on media. In a study funded by the National Institute of Mental Health, peer pressure is defined as “restricting individuals’ capacity to make decisions and engage in behavior of their own volition by making them feel uncomfortable about asserting their own opinions.” Introducing an audience does exactly that. The recipient must weigh their true feelings against the positive or negative consequences of their response. Given that the potential repercussions include public embarrassment, the recipient might feel compelled to say “yes” to save both involved reputations, despite what is in their best interest. Whether the result is a true or forced response, the possibility of starting a relationship out of pity or peer pressure is not worth it.

So why even have this strange peacock display? The prevailing reason is that it’s tradition. It’s expected. However, that doesn’t mean it’s always the best way to go; said tradition automatically creates a striking power imbalance. The proposer arrives at the scene armed with the boombox, the flowers and the poster, while the recipient is caught unaware. It’s not mutual. The proposer takes a risk with the support of friends and props. The recipient might have no support and certainly does not have time to prepare.

Plus—to strike at a deeper cultural norm—typically it’s depicted that the guy asks the girl out in a heterosexual relationship. We continue to overcome these assumptions as a more progressive society, but the bottom line remains that tradition is limited and outdated and may, in some cases, force people into gender roles. It’s not pretty, and it certainly isn’t romantic.

Lastly, involving the public turns a private affair into a sensationalized spectacle. Possible feelings between the proposer and the recipient are the concern of two people, not twenty. Why should a friend manage the intimate affairs of another friend, promise “yes” on their behalf and submit them to public spectacle for the sake of tradition or “romance”? It’s good to do background research on availability and interest, but everybody talks. Matchmaking becomes food for the gossip grapevine; high school becomes a reality TV show, and with that comes the pressure to perform. In essence, the proposer should conduct business lightly, if at all, and keep away from the crowds.

In the end, romance is meant to be intimate. It’s fair to say that an unwelcome crowd of excited onlookers ruins the scene. Paired with the element of surprise, this can lead to a stressful, vulnerable and even terrifying moment—not the recipe for intimacy. Rather than showing up with a poster made by a grudging sibling or artistically-inclined friend, start genuinely and simply. Try a more relaxed setting, whether that’s in a private message channel, over a call or safely face-to-face. It’s lower stakes for both parties and leaves room for honest conversation. If the public display is a must-have, discuss it beforehand. That way, both the proposer and the recipient are prepared, and, as an added plus, there’s a 100% probability of success.

 To be fair, shelter-in-place isn’t the most conducive to being in intimate relationships or getting to know someone new. Still, now is not the time to lose hope! Especially during a pandemic, reaching out to show someone you care means a lot. We’re starved for social contact, isolated and glued to our screens—at this point, those elementary Sweetheart candies and heart-shaped scented stickers would suffice. 

That said, sometimes the answer lies in simplicity: something tried and true, genuine and you. It doesn’t have to be grand or expensive; sometimes the little gestures mean the most. Here are five pandemic-safe last-minute Valentine’s Day gifts in ascending order of intimacy.

Something classic

From long-standing relationships to shy crushes, you can’t go wrong with the good old flowers and a card. Write a sweet message, handpick some blossoms and leave it on his or her doorstep for a simple, meaningful gift. You might not even have to risk going to the store—the perfect flowers might be in your backyard or neighborhood! Elevate a card with hand-doodled decorations, and don’t worry if you’re not Picasso. It’s the thought that counts.

Something tasty

Sometimes, the key to the heart is through the stomach. If you’re up to baking, a treat fresh from the oven is always heart-warming on a cold winter day. Try a short cookie, brownie or muffin recipe and have your gift ready in less than an hour. Alternatively, if you don’t have a keen sense in the kitchen, pick out some of your significant other’s favorite snacks or sweets to show that you’ve been paying attention.

Something lasting

Better than any cheap gift is a lasting memory. Instead of a physical item, give your significant other a few hours of your time. While going out to dinner isn’t a viable option, there are some pandemic-friendly alternatives! Whip up a home meal and have a socially-distanced afternoon picnic. Hold a FaceTime call over takeout food. Drop off some popcorn and share a movie night together over Zoom. If you’re too pressed for time, it’s not worth the stress; instead, take the day to relax with your special someone.

Something sentimental

Relationships are made of memories, and now’s the time to celebrate the best of them. Pull up your camera roll and find those hidden gems to create a collage of your favorite moments together. Print these out for a physical poster, string them together as polaroids, edit them into a video, frame them or just message them online in a nostalgic package that’ll make your significant other smile. Short on photos? Put together a meaningful compilation of songs on a modern version of those old-school mixtapes. This could be a CD, a flash drive or a boombox playing outside his or her bedroom window—hey, it complies with social distancing!

Something personal

Ladies, prepare your handkerchiefs. Long ago, such a white cloth—better yet, a monogrammed handkerchief—was a precious token of affection for suitors or officers going to war. Now, handkerchiefs aren’t quite so common, but a similar token or memento of affection will do. For those willing to go the extra mile for a loved one, to truly show that you care, the sacrifice of your favorite personal garment is the epitome of intimacy. This might be a T-shirt, sweatshirt or accessory such as a baseball cap or scarf with which you’re willing to part. Either way, it doesn’t cost a cent, and it comes from the heart, just as any Valentine’s Day gift should. 

2020 is undoubtedly a year for the history books. Four years into President Donald Trump’s term, a runaway virus, protests against police brutality and increasingly polarized politics have shaken the nation—not to mention the upcoming presidential election.

As the pandemic stripped people’s lifestyles to the bare bones, politics seemed to fade into the background, superseded by health concerns and more immediate changes. For the past several months, Americans have remained cooped up in their homes, tied to work or online learning, wondering if it’s safe to venture outdoors (if the sky isn’t an apocalyptic orange, that is). Asking citizens to vote, take a stance and fulfill their civic duty adds yet another issue to address. Still, even in the midst of 2020, the backbone of our representative democracy—the suffrage system—merits our immediate attention.

The issue

Suffrage: the right to vote, also known as enfranchisement. It’s the main ingredient to a democracy, direct or representative.

As a colony coming into its own, America was founded on the democratic principle that the power of the government comes from its people. However, the Founding Fathers did not wholeheartedly support unrestrained democracy. In fact, the Founding Fathers themselves only represented the upper echelon of society.

They were rich, white male statesmen. Many of them owned enslaved people. They studied law, business, finance and politics. While they wrote “all men are created equal” in the Declaration of Independence, they didn’t truly believe that all men were equally endowed with the intelligence and tact of the educated few.

The Founding Fathers feared that the excesses of democracy, or “mobocracy,” would overthrow their perceived vision of America. In an attempt to prevent the common, uneducated masses from voting, the thirteen colonies limited suffrage to only land-owning, white men. “There is no guaranteed right to vote in the Constitution,” social studies teacher Brian Miguel said. “I don’t think it was the design of the Framers to have universal enfranchisement.”

As such, suffrage did not belong to every human male of the country, nor did it belong to women and a number of religious and racial minorities. Although it may seem as if our country’s made leaps of progress, continued methods of disenfranchisement and discrepancies in voter turnout reveal that suffrage is far from equal across our nation.

Even for those who are currently eligible to vote, not all care to exercise their democratic right. According to 2016 general election exit polls, 11% of California voters were between the ages of 18 and 24; 9% were between the ages of 25 and 29. For all the buzz about getting out and voting, the younger generations pulled through dismally, and the highest percentage of voters went to 50 to 64 year olds—a generation born when cassette tapes were a thing. “Every time you see the results, you always wish more people had turned out,” Miguel said. “The vote is to get the will of the people, and you need the people to participate.”

So what’s preventing us from voting? Let’s take it back a few centuries.

The struggle for suffrage

In the 1800s, a social movement for women’s suffrage, led by Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, rose up in parallel with the fight for Black male suffrage, championed by Frederick Douglass. While the two causes initially competed, they coalesced toward a common goal by the early 1900s. On Aug. 18, 1920, more than a century ago, the women’s suffrage movement won. The ratification of the 19th Amendment stated, quite simply, that suffrage “shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.”

But there’s a catch: amendments were sometimes empty promises. Black male suffrage had already been legalized some 50 years before with the 15th Amendment. In similar language to the 19th Amendment, it stated that suffrage cannot be “denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.” Even though this was part of the “supreme Law of the Land” itself, some states decided otherwise.

Thus ensued active voter disenfranchisement, an overt movement toward inequality starting in 1870, as former League of Women Voters Director and current Co-Chair of Voter Services Jeannie Lythcott explains. “The literacy test to vote that the white folks got was like the kindergarten ABCs, whereas they gave [Black individuals] the task of learning and reciting the Declaration of Independence or the first three articles of the Constitution,” she said. “Active suppression of the vote of Black folks was real.”

Voter suppression manifested in more than just literacy tests: disproportionately high poll taxes, limited voter registration, accessibility to voting locations and voter fraud escalated, in many places, to open violence. Disenfranchisement was written in state law as well.

This all changed with the Voting Rights Act of 1965. “The point of the Voting Rights Act was to try to undercut all of the methods of denying Black folks the right to vote in one way or another,” Lythcott said.

The act prohibited many methods of disenfranchisement and required counties and states to report changes to voting procedures. In language that almost exactly echoed the constitutional amendment written 95 years before, it called for suffrage regardless of race or color.

This time, the words stuck—or rather, people were more willing to let them stick. The following years saw more diversity in office positions, government and business. “From 1965 until 2013, voting was an open affair,” Lythcott said.

That takes us to 2013, within the lifetime of every individual over seven years of age. In Shelby County v. Holder (2013), with a 5-4 majority, the Supreme Court reasoned that federal oversight of voting procedure modifications was no longer a necessary precaution. Consequently, they struck a key section from the Voting Rights Act, deeming it unconstitutional for overstepping federal power. In essence, the ruling permitted—and still permits—districts to establish arbitrary restrictions to their voting procedures without official authorization.

So the progress unraveled.

Roadblocks to the ballot box

In South Carolina, “voter purge” lawsuits aim to strike thousands of eligible citizens from voter rolls for the sake of maintenance. In Georgia, strict deadlines require eligible voters to register at least 29 days before Election Day, a policy that barred the ballots of 87,000 Georgians in the 2018 election. In Texas, there is only one ballot drop-off location per county. Even in California, the state and the Republican Party have recently been at odds over a number of unauthorized ballot drop boxes that could cause confusion among prospective voters.

Specters from a lifetime ago have returned to haunt us: poll taxes, literacy tests, voter IDs. They target minorities, social classes, immigrants and supporters of the opposing party. “That’s what’s going on in this day and age,” Lythcott said. “It has been going on since 30 seconds after Chief Justice Robert ruled against the Voting Rights Act.”

This century, social media and the internet are as much weapons as restrictive laws. Disinformation campaigns and political ads clutter online feeds and websites, with some even targeted at specific minorities.

For working classes, simply finding the time to vote can be a challenge. “We vote on Tuesday. That’s not necessarily the most accessible day for voting,” Miguel said. “There are concerted efforts to make voting hard, whether it’s the time that a polling place is open, the location of a polling place or type of ID you have to have in certain states. For a democracy, we don’t exactly make voting easy.”

The bottom line is this: voting isn’t an unimpeded, universal right. For many citizens, it’s more elusive than expected. Although widespread suffrage wasn’t the original letter of the law, it’s written in our country’s identity. If we are smothering the voices of the people, we can’t call ourselves a democracy.

Two steps forward, one step back

In 2016, California passed the Voter’s Choice Act, effective for the 2018 elections, to increase voter access. Its main provision was to create voting centers: locations for asking questions, registering to vote, requesting translated ballots and receiving and casting ballots before Election Day. These centers were open on weekdays and weekends, and they established an effective system of communication to catch errors and track ballots.

Fifteen California counties representing more than 50% of California’s population adopted voting centers before the 2020 election. “There we were, all set in Santa Clara County to run the election according to the Voter’s Choice Act with vote centers and all of that help,” Lythcott said. “And then the pandemic happened.”

At this point, the pandemic has been a party crasher for nearly every aspect of life. While in-person voting is still an option, it’s clearly not ideal with a virus on the loose. Instead, most eyes have turned to mail-in voting. In the past months, the United States Postal Service—which facilitates mail-in voting has become the subject of scrutiny, accusations and budget cuts. “The changes [to the postal system] have led to widespread reports of dramatic increases in delayed and undelivered mail,” Congresswoman Anna Eshoo said. “In several states, mailboxes were unbolted and driven away, causing a legitimate outcry from the citizenry.”

Notably, unlike universal suffrage, the establishment of a postal system is written into the Constitution. Furthermore, voting by mail has been a longstanding custom, despite accusations from our president toward its validity. “In the March 2020 statewide primary election, approximately 78% of registered voters received a ballot in the mail,” California Assemblymember Marc Berman said. “And the research is clear—voter fraud is exceedingly rare and support for voting by mail is not a partisan issue.”

To increase accessibility to mail-in voting, Assembly Bill 860 was passed by the California State Legislature to send ballots to all active, registered voters. It also extends the mail ballot dead- line to seventeen days after Election Day, and voters can track the progress of their ballot.

Berman, who penned the bill, believes it will allow citizens to vote without risking their health. “This will ensure that every California voter has the ability to vote from the safety of their own home,” he said. “I believe it will also increase voter turnout.”

Citizens’ concerns

Still, the pandemic may have impacted voters in more ways than restricted accessibility. Gunn alumna Shawna Chen, a former Editor-in-Chief of The Oracle and current Axios reporter, notes that the rise in anti-Asian racism from COVID-19 may discourage Asian American voters, who comprise more than a third of Santa Clara County’s population. “People are hurting a lot physically, mentally and emotionally,” she said. “Their livelihoods are being threatened.”

One out of every three eligible Asian American citizens does not plan to register to vote, according to Chen. With increased xenophobia, some might react with anger and activism, others with fears for safety and a desire to “keep their heads down.” Still, 17.1% of the American population is Asian alone or in combination with one or more other races, according to the 2019 American Community Survey. If these voters turn out, and if more minorities turn out, their votes may have an immeasurable impact.

In fact, some experts have forecast the highest turnout in more than a century, according to Eshoo. Californians have a mix of in-person voting locations, mail-in ballots and an election system that has persisted through wars, economic crises and epidemics. All that remains to be seen is if people still believe in our democracy.

We the people

To Palo Alto High School senior Rachel Owens, president of the student-led organization Vote16 and advocate for teenage suffrage, democracy is still worth fighting for. “Right now, some people may be losing faith in democracy, and in some ways that makes sense,” she said. “There are a lot of systems that are quite broken in our democracy. But I think that the foundation of democracy itself and the kind of democracy that we’re striving to achieve is one that we should keep working toward.”

To Chen, a 22-year-old college graduate, a political awakening is critical. “When you’re in high school, it doesn’t seem like it matters to you, because you’re not necessarily the one participating,” she said. “But when you get out of high school and once you’re old enough, you realize that this one vote, this ballot, has so much power in deciding your future.”

To Miguel, a father and U.S. Government teacher, it’s as simple as civic duty. “We need to increase voter participation,” he said. “And that isn’t just by voting but by informing and helping others vote. There’s a lot you can do in your role as a citizen beyond just checking a box once every four years.”

And to Lythcott, a sharp, politically active octogenarian, the might of democracy lies in its youth. “I know for a fact that young people have a lot of power that they don’t know they have,” she said. “School has been teaching you how to pass tests as if the SAT controls your life. We need to help young people recover that sense of ‘We know what to do. And we can do it.’”

Limited as it is, voting is our right. It’s written in a history of suffrage and suppression laws. It’s the tie between our government and our people. Those socially distanced pairs of citizens waiting for a turn at the public library ballot drop box; those posing for pictures with their masks on and the ballot in their hands; and those proudly holding up “I Voted!” stickers—that is our democracy. It’s up to the people to keep it alive.