Today, instead of being at home with my freelance writing, I have the privilege of doing a different job. I'm working at the polls. I'm not a part of a campaign. I'm helping people vote.
I wrote this the week after the presidential election when I had no platform to share it. Today it seems appropriate. In Virginia, we are holding our primary election.
Here is the updated article I wrote.
How the Polling Place Became
Unexpectedly Moving
My precinct has almost 3,400 people. As an introvert, I’ve met extremely few of the people I’ve lived among for 7 years. After working to help people vote, I see that I need to work harder at building ties. We need strong communities, not divisions based on our differences. I have a part to play. We all do.
The 2016 U.S. presidential election felt more polarizing than any I’ve experienced. The level of emotion was incredibly high. In talking to people passionate about their candidate, it felt like emotion eclipsed logic. Rational thought left the conversation.
Calmer Times
During this primary season, I've avoided most campaign ads. Last November, I unsubscribed from non-political groups that decided make their political stance. I wanted to get away from the steady political diet that took over. I also wanted to find that place where rational people could peacefully share space.
However, there is one very political space I enjoy. It's special. You'll find it inside the polling place.
When purpose and passion share space
When I work inside the polling place, my political values stay outside. I’m there to help my neighbors exercise their constitutional right to vote, a privilege other brave men and women died to purchase. Indeed, a privilege people from some nations would risk death to exercise, if they only had the option.
My passion, in that space, is to help people vote. I don’t care who they vote for, just that they are choosing to exercise their freedom. I appreciate their time and the effort to come participate. Some of them endure painful physical sacrifice to leave their homes, travel to the polls and cast their ballots.
When the ordinary becomes moving
I watched all sorts of people come through the polling place as I stood past the scanner, ready to collect their empty ballot folders.
Smartly-dressed business people. Workers, still dirty from working at the print shop or a construction site. Nurses on the way to or from their shifts. People from all walks of life.
I watched the furtive young woman, walking mostly on tip-toes, often glancing around to see who was watching. She bravely voted, then timidly waited for others in her group to take her home.
Countless elderly people – some with canes that had stories to match the spark of their owner. One elderly man, so challenged by significant pain, his body was barely able to get around, but he was determined to do his duty.
Quite a few retirees wore military caps that hinted at service offered and sacrifices never forgotten. A few younger men dressed in law-enforcement uniforms – sheriff, jail, police. All of them deserved our thanks for their service. And we thanked them as often as we could.
Skinny people. Morbidly obese people. All sorts in-between. I wondered at the challenges they face.
One lady, I would guess, is fighting cancer, seeing her sparse, half-inch long hair. It reminded me of my sister, and the battle she lost. I silently prayed for this lady as I blinked back unexpected tears.
Many children came through. Beautiful families. Some with just a dad or only a mom. I wondered if they were parenting alone. We thanked the kids for “helping” their parent vote. It was a joy watching a little girl shyly perk up, suddenly feeling special.
Quite a few young people came through. One of the poll workers adeptly caught them and helped celebrate their first vote with a high five or a fist bump.
Hurried people. Lingering people. Absent-minded people who shook my hand, rather than hand over the folder. Somewhat-aware people who reached out to hand over the folder, but couldn’t seem to bring themselves to let go. Amusing people who thought they should let it go for $50 or negotiate for something else. We always negotiated with special edition sticker. (I must say it worked like a charm!)
Appreciative people who thanked us right back for the very long day we were putting in to help them vote. Although we never sought thanks, it was nice to be acknowledged.
No rancor present in the room. Just people bearing responsibility. Showing pride. Hope. Acceptance. And relief that this would soon be over and people could get back to real life again.
The tally in the popular vote started here with these fellow human beings. Doing their part to be counted. Valued. Wanting to move forward with their strengths, the best way they know.
I realized the political strategists – and even fellow citizens – could see some of these voters as “those” people. And that “those” people, with very real hopes and fears are dehumanized in that moment because they align with the values of a different political party. The news media says they are to be feared. That they are our enemy. And it’s tearing our country apart.
Assumptions that destroy
We categorize people based on assumptions. We assume things based on differences. People talk differently. Work differently. Dress differently. Have piercings differently. Believe solutions come around differently. Because of those things, we treat them differently.
Sometimes that makes sense. A rocket scientist is wise to avoid words understood by people in the industry when talking to people elsewhere. Dressing in a suit, as a funeral director would, doesn’t make sense when you are working on a construction site getting dirty.
Many times, however, that isn’t the case. Our very differences give rise to anger and resentment. When we stop trying to understand, we pull apart. Judgement replaces respect and kindness. Judgement based on differences.
Rarely is any one person at fault. And it’s not just black vs white, men vs women, or majority vs minority. It’s perfect vs overweight, or outgoing vs introvert, among other things.
Judgement flows both ways. White collar workers judging “ignorant” blue collar workers and their seeming refusal to just do as they are ordered because they think they know better. Blue collar workers judging “bureaucratic” white collar workers and their apparent ignorance to realities they must adapt to just to get things accomplished.
Where is the why?
I wonder. What would happen if we got curious? If, instead of criticizing each other, or refusing to talk to each other respectfully, we asked a question. What would happen if we ask why this is happening and then listen for a change? What happens if we unconditionally accept the humanity in each other, as we do in ourselves?
Working at the poll, with nothing else to do but gather folders and/or hand out “I voted” stickers, I saw people. Really saw them. Friends. Neighbors. Respected colleagues. Human beings. Some of whom have a different political point of view. All of them doing the best they know to do.
Uniting - one interaction at a time
I’m ready for our communities to be strong again. I’m ready for our country to be united again. It’s ok to be different. Life would be boring if we were all the same. Perhaps if I work harder to seek understanding and start caring more … I don’t know, maybe, just maybe … our community will be just a little bit stronger – regardless of who is elected now or in the future.
I’m only one person. Together, the future can be whatever we make it. Together we may reach those that were beyond reach, those once thought beyond saving. Together, starting in our own communities, we can reach across the nation.
It all starts with a commitment, a kind gesture, a genuine effort to put ourselves in each other’s shoes. So tell me…
Will you join me in reaching out?
Next week, we'll be back to our ordinary freelance topics.
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