On Monday, I wrote a story for Vogue about becoming a poll worker in Pennsylvania. I volunteered in hopes of avoiding the news cycle on election day. What I got out of the experience was so much more profound than I could have imagined and will stay with me as I start to think about what comes next for my family, my friends, and the country I love so much.
At 5:45 a.m. I hopped on my bike to ride the mile and a half to Helen S. Faison Arts Academy, a K-5 Pittsburgh Public School. Despite its proximity, I had never been to this school before, nor had I spent much time in the neighborhood. The Arts Academy is located in the Homewood neighborhood of Pittsburgh, a historic, predominately Black community. I was excited to spend the day somewhere new.
When I pulled up, I was greeted by the Judge of Elections for another precinct that was sharing the same gym as us. The Judge of Elections oversees the day’s proceedings, and is typically someone who has worked at many elections before. When in doubt, ask your Judge of Elections. He and his entire family had been working the polls for decades. From the moment I met him, I knew he was going to run a tight ship and make sure that everyone had a chance for a safe and free election.
We set up quickly, and the doors opened at 7 a.m. Unlike what many saw on TV, there were no long lines. My polling place had 200 registered voters (75 actually voted by the end of the day). The other precinct sharing the space had about 300. As a first time poll worker, I was grateful to be working in a smaller precinct. There are a lot of moving parts to being a poll worker. You have to find the voter’s name, make sure they don’t need to show ID, have them sign, circle the next number in a poll sheet twice and write their name next to it, add that number to the poll book, initial and then give them a ballot. Once a voter finishes with their ballot, we would walk them over to the counting machine and have them insert the ballot.
There was also a lot of downtime. The first rush occurred from about 6 to 8:30 a.m. and then again around 5 p.m., but in between, it was pretty slow. That gave me a chance to watch the Judge of Elections and his daughters interact with their community and to hear more about their family history. His daughters shared that the reason they do this for every election (even primaries) is because their great grandmother had to fight for the right to vote and they wanted to keep her legacy alive. Nearly every person that walked through that door to vote knew this family. The very act of showing up to cast their vote, was a celebration of life and freedom. There were hugs, there were tears, there was gossip, there was great food, there was music and so much more. Every once in a while, when things would get a little rowdy, the Judge of Elections (aka Grandpa) would shout “we’ve got voting to do people,” and everyone would quickly get back to work.
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