Voting
in 2004
by
Marj Schneider
The controversies surrounding the 2000 presidential election prompted
passage in 2002 of the Help America Vote Act (HAVA), which, among
its other provisions, requires that states make polling places and
the voting process accessible to voters with disabilities. I have
friends in Minnesota who've been involved in determining how blind
and visually impaired people will gain access to the voting process,
but nothing was in place by November 2.
Imagine my surprise when I learned last year that Georgia had accessible
voting machines that had been in use for two years. The state replaced
a hodgepodge of paper ballot systems and antiquated voting machines
with touch-screen voting equipment. Maybe it was Georgia's proximity
to Florida that prompted the state to so quickly implement the provisions
of HAVA. Is touch-screen voting the best and most tamper-proof form
of technology? I don't know, and no, there's no paper record of a
person's votes, but the technology allows for large print and voice
output of what's on the screen.
I was dreading the prospect
of going to vote. For me, voting has always involved thinking about
just how I was going to accomplish the task, and it was often an
irritating process. I had to take someone with me: either my mom,
a friend, a reader, and in more recent years, Don. Then there were
the election judges to contend with - always elderly and typically
baffled by my presence. They could neither correctly spell my name,
nor speak to me directly. "Is she supposed
to vote in this precinct?" "Can she sign her name?" "Can
you help her vote?"
It was worse if I'd come
alone and had to ask for their assistance to vote. It always had
to be two of them, one Democrat and one Republican. In years past,
they both would crowd into the voting booth along with me, and
one would throw the right lever while the other looked on. "You want to vote for Paul Wellstone?" he
would loudly inquire. He had to make sure he'd heard right. I would
mumble affirmatively in response, embarrassed that everyone could
hear how I was voting. I was fed up with the Election Day rigmarole.
I even thought, after moving to Georgia, that if I couldn't cast
my own vote I wouldn't vote this time around at all.
In October the Savannah Council of the Blind held a demonstration
of the voice and large print ballots; since I knew my precinct had
to have one voting machine that could be made to run with voice output,
I knew I had to give it a try. Yet I still dreaded the prospect.
I felt I needed to go at a different time from Don, just to make
those judges deal with me directly without assuming Don was there
to speak for me.
After a 15-minute walk I arrived at my polling place. Even with
the doors open, the church was sweltering inside. It was well above
80 degrees; it seemed surreal that I could be voting in November
in such heat. The first poll worker insisted I sit while they all
pondered whether or not I could vote in that precinct. I didn't mind.
I had decided on the way over I would be as patient as possible with
the poll workers and see where it got me.
While I sat, our next-door
neighbors came in and quickly voted. We talked, and they asked
on their way out if they could help. I was relieved to be able
to say, "No, they've got an accessible
voting machine. They're just getting it ready." And, indeed,
one of the poll workers had clearly been trained in what to do and
after asking me if I wanted the "hidden ballot" (the screen
would be blank) she set to work hooking up a keyboard and loading
software to make one of the precinct's four machines talk.
Finally, after I had signed the requisite voting certificate and
the machine was ready to go, I walked over to a table, put on headphones,
and listened to the instructions on the first screen. After assuring
the poll worker that everything was operating as it should, I was
left by myself!
The process was made very simple with the 4, 5, and 6 of the telephone
keypad used to vote for a candidate, go backward to review names,
and go forward to the next candidate or race. Yes or No votes were
cast in the same way, including mine on the ludicrous gay marriage
amendment to the state's Constitution.
When I had confirmed and reconfirmed all my votes and submitted my
ballot, the plastic card clicked out of the slot and the poll worker
was there to collect it. I smiled at her and said, "This is
the first time I've ever voted by myself." I wanted her to know
that the efforts to make the machines accessible were worth it.
I don't know how long
it took me to vote. I know I was at the church for over half an
hour, and even though it was at lunchtime, surprisingly few other
people came and went. As Manda and I stepped outside, another poll
worker handed me two peach-shaped "I voted" stickers.
I guess one was for Manda, though even in dog years she's too young
to vote. As elated as I was, I didn't want to put on both: I thought
it might send the wrong message.
Aside from how discouraging
most of the results of this election are to me, that doesn't diminish
the thrill of finally fully participating in a small act that is
fundamental to our form of government. Voting took on new meaning
for me this time, and having spent possibly half my voting life
carrying out that act through others, I won't take for granted
finally being able to do it for myself.
