Voting early is all over the media. I first noticed the enthusiasm on
my social media networks, where folks gave shout outs about their early
voting experiences. Even here on Qcitymetro we were able to read about
the community turning out in impressive numbers to cast early ballots.
Should I vote early or wait?
Two things kept me in a perpetual state of indecision: Allegations of ballot tampering in Florida and other parts of the country. Plus, every time I turned on the television, polls were in a constant state of flux.
My confusion was exacerbated by the daily war stories I’d hear on “The Tom Joyner Morning Show.” You know the ones, where some poor, elderly person, voting for the very first time, on the verge of being evicted, who walked five miles in blistering winter weather (for some reason it’s always cold, even in Texas), in the only pair of shoes that survived the fire that destroyed the assisted-living home, stood in line for over four hours only to be told that they were not in the system and could not vote.
My apprehension eventually diminished because I literally got a sign; and no, it was not a squash that resembled the president. Instead, there on my door handle was a pamphlet that read, “Vote Early for President Barack Obama.”
The next morning I headed to my closest early voting location, at Veterans Park. I had my license, a few bills to prove my address, water, a collapsible chair (just in case I saw an elderly voter who needed to rest after a long journey) and my portable video camera, just in case I was privy to a Tea Party pop off.
When I arrived, a line of mostly African-Americans had already formed.
The sister who was in charge of keeping the line straight was no
joke. When the line started to get sloppy, she would remind folks that
she expected an orderly line and that we were not to block the exit. I
think she had a distant relative who worked the cafeteria at my old high
school.
I kept seeing people in line with voter registration cards. I neglected to bring mine because historically I never needed it. But as I watched others with their cards, I began to get paranoid, worried that I might get all the way up there and get turned away.
Before I had time to Google the voter fraud number from the TJMS, I was at the front door. The volunteer door Diva greeted me warmly and directed me to the next available volunteer. I stepped forward and gave him my name.
He asked me to verify my address, but it didn’t match the name they had on file.
Here we go, I thought.
My palms began to sweat, but just when I was about to start my speech of righteous indignation, my name was found and I was cleared to proceed.
Another volunteer escorted me to my voting booth, where I produced notes from my bag and was finally able to concentrate on the candidates of my choice. The entire process was over in less than 45 minutes.
There is a verse from an old song -- “Oh, Lord, I just want to be in that number” -- that sums up my feelings about voting. Regardless of your party affiliation, we should all want our voices heard.
In the time it takes to watch an episode of “Basketball Wives,” I did something quite significant. I just hope that fear, laziness, conspiracy theories or apathy won’t keep others from exercising their fundamental right and privilege.
I’m curious. Will you vote early? If not, why not?