In the last election, for the first time, I voted by mail. Afterward, I must admit, I felt unsatisfied and even a bit guilty.
I’m still all for asserting my right to vote in person, but I don’t want to be a martyr about it.
That’s because, even though I use a motorized wheelchair, neither snow nor sleet nor dark of night has ever before stopped me from going to my polling place on Election Day. And believe me, on election days in Chicago, there has been plenty of snow and sleet and dark of night. It seems like Election Day is always the most miserably cold and blustery day of the year. How come we never have elections in June?
But the more hostile the conditions, the more determined I’ve been to get to the polls because of the stories I’ve heard throughout the years about the disenfranchisement of disabled voters. For example, when the local polling place is somewhere like a church basement with no elevator, so a person using a wheelchair can’t get in.
Federal laws like the Americans With Disabilities Act, as well as state laws, require polling places and voting apparatus to be accessible. But, of course, that doesn’t mean they are.
The Government Accounting Office in 2017 examined 178 polling places used in the 2016 election and found that 60 percent had a potential access to entry barriers, such as poor paths to the doorway and steep ramps. Of the polling places GAO examined, 65 percent had a potential access problem with voting apparatus, such as voting stations that could not accommodate people using wheelchairs.
“Our work examining the accessibility of polling places for voters with disabilities during the 2000, 2008, and 2016 general elections,” the study concluded, “points to the need for additional progress to help voters with disabilities enter and move through polling places, access voting systems, and cast a private and independent vote.”
I’ve heard a lot of stories about disabled voters who avoid these hassles by voting absentee, which is a big reason why I’ve been so adamant about voting in person on Election Day. I figure that if I can make them accommodate me at my polling place, I should. These barriers won’t go away unless we confront them rather than circumventing them.
Also, there’s something anticlimactic to me about dropping my ballot in a collection box. It feels as if I’ve done my duty, but I haven’t made my presence known. Going to the polls with my neighbors is, to me, part of what makes the voting experience feel good.
But the pandemic changed all of that. I’m still all for asserting my right to vote in person, but I don’t want to be a martyr about it.
And now I see all these different voter suppression efforts going on in states around the country. Everybody knows that the intent is to make it more difficult to vote in any manner other than in person, and then make it even more difficult for some people to even do that. When we vote otherwise, we mess up their nasty plan.
So now I feel a strong sense of solidarity with those who vote alternatively. I think it’s important for me to continue to be among them, exercising our right to vote as we damn well please.