I love election season! I love the act of voting. I’ve been loving it since I was 7 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 60 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 4, 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, with as many as 45% of us voting 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 conversations one engages while waiting in 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 it is less so because so many vote by mail, the lines and the camaraderie are the spirit of democracy. Some Republicans have been trying to steal that joy, making early voting more difficult and using other voter 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’s 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 Jon Ossoff. 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 that every citizen must avail themselves of. 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 Nov. 5. Join the joy. Vote!
Malveaux, a former college president, is an economist, author and commentator based in Washington, D.C.
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