My state is considered a crucial swing state and my voting experience today made it clear that a swing in the wrong direction could be disastrous for many.
I woke up this morning to the voice of civil rights icon and Congressman, John Lewis on the radio and was literally jolted out of my bed. The echoes and cries for justice and decency did not allow me to sleep through the extra ten minutes the slumber button on my alarm clock allowed. I felt anxious, almost afraid. I am confident in tonight’s election outcome but I had a strange uneasiness that would clear up about 40 minutes later. I showered, dressed and started the eight block walk to my polling location. By the way, it had been two blocks the previous year. Yes, my neighbors and I are caught in the voter suppression efforts.
I arrived at the local elementary school that now handles voters, scurried to the back of an increasingly growing line and waited to be checked for my ward and district. I stood there with my earbuds peeking from my ears, listening to the Stephanie Miller show, hoping for a laugh to relieve myself of the anxiousness I woke up with. Now oblivious to outside sound, I was startled a bit to feel a tug at my trouser leg. Just off to the side was an elderly woman sitting in what looked like a padded kitchen chair, informing me that the place just ahead of me was hers and she was indeed on line. I told her I was glad to be a placeholder for her and would help her find her ward and district designation. I summoned over a poll worker, told him of the woman’s plight and he politely arranged for her to be escorted in by wheelchair, she refused. She told me and anyone within earshot, she was walking in to vote and “no one could stop her.”
She marshaled her strength, pushed up on the cane she was carrying and walked in. Her head held high and proud, she made her way to push the button, she had told me earlier, her father had died for her right to do, in rural North Carolina. The anxious feelings eased a bit
A young man looking for the Hillary voting place.
My second encounter was with a twenty something African American young man, wearing a casual windbreaker a pair of sharply creased slacks, white shirt and tie. He tapped me on the shoulder and with pride said he was twenty-six had never voted before, openly confessed to a learning disability and wanted to vote for Hillary, “what do I do?” At that point I realized I had heard his voice just a minute or two earlier when I was helping my newly made elderly friend. He had asked upon his approach, “is this the Hillary voting place?” There were a few smiles but so many people were willing to help him, it was inspiring. The gentlemen just behind me said to him, “I guess you are voting for Hillary, in a mocking tone.” The young man raised his head slightly and said, “that Trump guy makes fun of me because I am slow.” I no longer felt anxiety. If these two people could struggle to have their voices heard, I have faith that America will do the same.
It is not over, Vote 2016!