I love election season! I love the act of voting. I’ve
been loving it since I was seven and my mom let me pull the lever on her vote for John F. Kennedy
in 1960. The voting site was just a block from
our house, in a neighbor’s garage, where three
voting booths were set up, along with a coffee
urn and some cookies set out on a paper plate. The thick
Slavic woman checked Mom off without asking for ID – the neighborhood was small and everyone knew each
other. Help yourself to coffee, Marie, the lady said to Mom. Little girl, you may have a cookie
and there is some juice over there.
There was, indeed, a pretty pitcher of orange juice next to the
plate of cookies. Mom poured herself a cup of coffee, took a sip, then told the lady in charge that she
had to run to work and get this one (me) to school.
On the short walk to the polling place, Mom told me about
Black people in Mississippi, where she was from, and how we fought for the right to vote. She
spoke of Medgar Evers and Fannie Lou Hamer and
told me to “remember those names.” She said I
should never miss the opportunity to vote, “no matter what.” Then we stepped
into the curtained “booth,” and she said,
“who are we voting for,” and I said “Kennedy.” She said, “show me,” and I pointed
to JFK’s name on the ballot. She let me punch the card, then she did other punches for state and
local races. Then I got to push the lever that would allow our votes to be counted.
On the walk home, I peppered her with questions. Who are
those other people you voted for? Why is
voting so important? Why were people killed
just because they wanted to vote?
Remember your questions, she said, and we can talk this evening.
But remember this, more than anything else:
remember that voting is a sacred duty.
More than sixty years later, I still remember that day. I remember Mom’s intensity about voting. And I remember,
that evening, her telling the five of her children about voting. Brother, a year or so younger than
me, only partly understood. The twins were four, and they probably didn’t fully follow the
conversation, but they liked it when we all
sat together and talked. From that day until
this, I’ve loved voting. I don’t think I’ve
missed an opportunity to vote in my life.
I love going to a polling place and enjoying the buzz of
activity as people sign in, queue up, and wait for an available voting booth. With technology, the
energy is a bit different, since as many as 45
percent of us vote by mail. Thanks to COVID,
people have changed their voting habits, with
mail ballots often far more convenient than going to a polling
place. But I miss the buzz of the crush of
people, the random conversation one engages
while waiting on line.
I saw some of that energy, when Roland Martin broadcast from Friendship West Baptist
Church on the first day of voting in Dallas.
There, the lines snaked around a corner, but
people were in good spirits. Voting is a
communal act, and even if its less so because so many vote by mail, the
lines and the camaraderie are the spirit of democracy.
Some Republican have been trying to steal that joy, making
early voting more difficult, and using other voting suppression tactics to keep voters away
from the polls. And then some don’t need suppression tactics to keep them away.
These are the people who have decided that their votes
don’t matter, even though we know how powerful a single vote can
be, not to mention collective votes. Rev. Jesse Jackson used to say that “the hands that picked
peaches can pick Presidents.” In other words,
every single one of us holds power in our
hands. If Black people votes were reflective
of our population size we could have elected Stacey Abrams
governor of Georgia. Our collective votes
brought us two Democratic senators from
Georgia, Rev. Raphael Warnock and activist
John Osoff. But some are not swayed by these facts, preferring to sit out
the voting opportunity because they think the system is warped.
I am saddened by those who will not experience the joy of
voting. Voting is a joy, a pleasure, a privilege, and an opportunity of which every citizen must
avail themselves. Sure, the system isn’t
perfect. Indeed, it has inequality at its roots when once, only
propertied white men could exercise the
franchise.
Now, we can all vote, but many don’t. I will proudly and
gleefully cast my vote for Vice President Kamala Harris on November 5. Join the joy. Vote!
