You know what they say about assumptions ....
When I went to vote absentee on Friday, I assumed with absolute confidence that my vote would be accurately cast. I’ve been voting for 41 years and never once have I questioned my assumptions about the process.
That changed on Friday.
I arrived at the election commission as one of many errands on my list for the day. When I saw the line of 30+ people waiting in the more-sunny-than-shady line, I didn’t hesitate to join the wait.
The line moved quickly. I wore my mask as did most people in the line. Everyone respected the tape marks indicating social distancing. A staffer from the election commission walked up and down the line offering bottles of water.
Once I got into the building, the process was efficient, and the staff was gracious in spite of the heat and long lines. I signed my paperwork with a properly sanitized pen at the plastic shielded window. I turned to give my paperwork to a staff member who inserted my paper ballot into the machine. It took a couple of tries to get it to work.
When I looked at the candidates’ names on the screen, I saw only two offices I was prepared to vote for – sheriff and coroner – but I didn’t see others I was expecting. I know we live on the cusp of a couple of districts for various offices. And while I consider myself a fairly informed voter, I admit there have been times when I’ve been uncertain about the district lines. My mind immediately went to the assumption that the machine had to be right, so I must have “misremembered” which districts were mine.
I cast my votes, posted the requisite "I Voted" photo reminding people to vote on Tuesday and hurried on to my next appointment. I quashed my instinct that the machine was wrong and followed my lifelong ingrained assumption that the machine had to be right.
I mentioned this incident to my husband a couple of hours later. He confirmed that I hadn’t misremembered our districts. I went online and found our address in the county database. Sure enough. He was right. I kicked myself for not following up on my instinct about the incorrect ballot when I first saw it.
I called the election commission and left a message as soon as I realized the problem. I wasn’t asking to correct my ballot. I knew that wasn’t possible. My concern was making sure there wasn’t a problem with the machine. Because if there was a problem when I voted, I didn’t want someone else to unknowingly have the same issue.
The election commission director called me back promptly. I explained what happened and acknowledged my own role in the situation by not questioning the ballot before I left the election commission. He asked me a few questions. He apologized. That was it.
I assumed he would be concerned about the integrity of the machine. However, he focused on the fact that I should have brought up the problem while I was still in the building, so there was nothing that could be done at this point. He said it was my responsibility to make sure the paper ballot represented who I voted for on the machine. (It did represent who I voted for. It just didn’t represent the people who - I later realized - should have been on my ballot. Again, I take responsibility for not further questioning my own memory and for assuming the machine was correct.)
The more I thought about this over the weekend, the more it haunted me. I know there are lots of voters like me who go to their polling place assuming they know their various district representatives when actually they don’t. I know there are lots of voters like me who assume that the ballots they are given at the voting booth are accurate (in this case I assumed the machine was more accurate than my own memory). I was concerned about them having a similar experience.
But there’s a bigger issue that has nagged at me all weekend. I’ve gone 41 years of voting without ever giving a single second of thought to the idea that my vote could be compromised. I’m a 59-year-old white woman, and that’s something that’s never entered my realm of possibility. I always assumed the process would protect my rights.
Then it hit me. I have always had the privilege of assuming that the process would protect me. I have no reason, no lived experience, no personal history to assume otherwise.
Let me be clear – I’m not accusing anyone of fraud or intentional dishonesty in this election. I share this incident not to point a finger or call out someone for making a mistake. My hope is that this was just a single incidence of a clerical error.
I share this to remind us all to question our assumptions. I’ve thought so many times over the past week how my own assumptions have made me complacent about long held beliefs around important topics like fairness, race, equality, being heard, trust and authority.
There’s far more to this incident for me than just – what I hope was – a clerical error.
It took this incident to make me realize … no more assumptions.
I must do better.
That changed on Friday.
I arrived at the election commission as one of many errands on my list for the day. When I saw the line of 30+ people waiting in the more-sunny-than-shady line, I didn’t hesitate to join the wait.
The line moved quickly. I wore my mask as did most people in the line. Everyone respected the tape marks indicating social distancing. A staffer from the election commission walked up and down the line offering bottles of water.
Once I got into the building, the process was efficient, and the staff was gracious in spite of the heat and long lines. I signed my paperwork with a properly sanitized pen at the plastic shielded window. I turned to give my paperwork to a staff member who inserted my paper ballot into the machine. It took a couple of tries to get it to work.
When I looked at the candidates’ names on the screen, I saw only two offices I was prepared to vote for – sheriff and coroner – but I didn’t see others I was expecting. I know we live on the cusp of a couple of districts for various offices. And while I consider myself a fairly informed voter, I admit there have been times when I’ve been uncertain about the district lines. My mind immediately went to the assumption that the machine had to be right, so I must have “misremembered” which districts were mine.
I mentioned this incident to my husband a couple of hours later. He confirmed that I hadn’t misremembered our districts. I went online and found our address in the county database. Sure enough. He was right. I kicked myself for not following up on my instinct about the incorrect ballot when I first saw it.
I called the election commission and left a message as soon as I realized the problem. I wasn’t asking to correct my ballot. I knew that wasn’t possible. My concern was making sure there wasn’t a problem with the machine. Because if there was a problem when I voted, I didn’t want someone else to unknowingly have the same issue.
The election commission director called me back promptly. I explained what happened and acknowledged my own role in the situation by not questioning the ballot before I left the election commission. He asked me a few questions. He apologized. That was it.
I assumed he would be concerned about the integrity of the machine. However, he focused on the fact that I should have brought up the problem while I was still in the building, so there was nothing that could be done at this point. He said it was my responsibility to make sure the paper ballot represented who I voted for on the machine. (It did represent who I voted for. It just didn’t represent the people who - I later realized - should have been on my ballot. Again, I take responsibility for not further questioning my own memory and for assuming the machine was correct.)
The more I thought about this over the weekend, the more it haunted me. I know there are lots of voters like me who go to their polling place assuming they know their various district representatives when actually they don’t. I know there are lots of voters like me who assume that the ballots they are given at the voting booth are accurate (in this case I assumed the machine was more accurate than my own memory). I was concerned about them having a similar experience.
But there’s a bigger issue that has nagged at me all weekend. I’ve gone 41 years of voting without ever giving a single second of thought to the idea that my vote could be compromised. I’m a 59-year-old white woman, and that’s something that’s never entered my realm of possibility. I always assumed the process would protect my rights.
Then it hit me. I have always had the privilege of assuming that the process would protect me. I have no reason, no lived experience, no personal history to assume otherwise.
Let me be clear – I’m not accusing anyone of fraud or intentional dishonesty in this election. I share this incident not to point a finger or call out someone for making a mistake. My hope is that this was just a single incidence of a clerical error.
I share this to remind us all to question our assumptions. I’ve thought so many times over the past week how my own assumptions have made me complacent about long held beliefs around important topics like fairness, race, equality, being heard, trust and authority.
There’s far more to this incident for me than just – what I hope was – a clerical error.
It took this incident to make me realize … no more assumptions.
I must do better.
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