I am fifty-five years old and previously a nonvoter. My history of voting is short; I’ve done it only four times in my life—once in my twenties and then not again until I was fifty-one. The first time I voted in a presidential election was in 2020.
I knew nothing about the process the first time I voted. I went to the polls to choose a mayor, but I was not expecting a ballot with candidates for other races, along with various amendments and referendums. I had no idea what to do. And unfortunately, after selecting a mayoral candidate, I just voted for the other candidates randomly.
The process not only intimidated me, I also felt embarrassed and irresponsible for voting for people and issues I knew nothing about. I didn’t pay much attention to politics back then, so I didn’t research the candidates or the issues. I did what I thought I was supposed to do: simply vote, and that was enough. The whole experience was discouraging.
Although that incident only heightened the disinterest I had in politics, the main reason I became a nonvoter was because I was influenced by the lie that my vote didn’t matter—a lie that Black people are consistently told in this country, and one that many of us have bought into. So, for the next twenty-five years, I didn’t vote.
I didn’t understand the importance of voting for local issues in midterm elections, and I believed that every presidential election was predetermined by corporations, rich lobbyists (especially the Koch brothers), and the Electoral College, regardless of the outcome of the popular vote. The Bush v. Gore election debacle in 2000 solidified my beliefs. My political stance, which I fervently defended, was to be apolitical, to withhold my vote in protest.
While it is true that corporations and lobbyists do have a huge impact on elections, and issues with the Electoral College still need to be addressed, I underestimated the power of the people. My greatest stumbling block was not knowing the full history of how and why voting rights for Black Americans have continuously been under attack since the ratification of the Fifteenth Amendment in 1870. I didn’t grasp how voter suppression began as a backlash against the political and economic power that Black people were gaining during Reconstruction, and how it has persisted for the past 152 years.
During those years of being a nonvoter, I became an outspoken racial and social justice activist because of the heinous murders of Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Tamir Rice. I learned to use my voice but still didn’t understand the importance of using my vote, because I lacked an awareness of the impact electoral politics has on such issues.
It took only a single presidency to change my mind. The era of Donald Trump was a tumultuous time that left me no choice but to pay more attention to the political landscape. I realized I couldn’t continue to be an activist and fight unjust laws and policies if I didn’t also vote to change them. It was during this presidential term that I decided to start voting again.
I cast my ballot in the midterm elections of 2018 and the presidential election of 2020. I decided I would rather vote and find out later that it didn’t affect the outcome than to not vote and realize that I could have made a difference. I chose to make a difference, and I refused to give my voting power away ever again.
What many often mistake as apathy in Black nonvoters is instead a deep sense of hopelessness, helplessness, mistrust, and anger.
The urgency of voting in our current climate is too great. Our nation is dealing with voter suppression laws, anti-abortion laws, police brutality, an affordable housing crisis, relentless gun violence, gerrymandering, and myriad other issues, with various states increasingly seeking to gain power unchecked by federal controls and protections. And with the 2024 presidential election looming, we must make a plan to turn out and vote like never before.
But the responsibility doesn’t lie only with nonvoters. Regular voters must continue to turn up at the polls as well, but more importantly, they must stop berating nonvoters, particularly Black Americans, making them feel guilty and ashamed.
Folks need to realize that there are many reasons why people choose not to vote, and what many often mistake as apathy in Black nonvoters is instead a deep sense of hopelessness, helplessness, mistrust, and anger. As a people, we have experienced firsthand countless forms of systemic oppression and racial terrorism for more than 400 years. This gives us every right to criticize what elected officials are—or are not—doing while in office, whether we vote or not. Elected officials serve all the people, not just voters. We need to help nonvoters understand the process and the issues better, and they will come around in their own time and for their own reasons, just as I did.
Today, not only am I an activist and an informed voter, but in 2021, I began volunteering with a nonprofit on their voting rights campaign. I also started working as an organizer for another nonprofit that is heavily involved in voter engagement and other racial and social justice issues. This experience has been invaluable and has exponentially increased my knowledge of politics, voting rights, and voter suppression.
I fight passionately to protect and maintain the voting rights of Black and brown citizens. I speak about voting rights and conduct voter education workshops. I’ve written articles and op-eds on political issues and voting rights, and I engage with people to encourage them to go to the polls. As long as I have a voice and a vote, I will continue using both, and will no longer allow my ancestors’ struggles and bloodshed to be in vain.
I hope my story will inspire others who still believe that their vote doesn’t matter—it most certainly does. And although history has proven that Black people must always remain vigilant about how politics affects us, we must also realize our collective power can be exercised with our vote. If we didn’t, this country wouldn’t work so hard to constantly impede what is our human, civil, and Constitutional right. We must come together to continue the fight against racial, political, economic, and social injustice because our lives and our livelihoods depend on it.