For Gracie
As I call voters in North Carolina who may have had difficulty casting their ballots in past elections, I reach a man, African-American, who works two jobs. He’s been having trouble figuring out a time where he can vote.
North Carolina does not allow early voting on the Sunday before the election, a traditional time for African-American families to get together after church. The history of targeted voter suppression stems back far as 1898 to 1900 when the state constitution was amended to include a literacy requirement which conveniently exempted many white men and ended in a period of “rampant terror, violence and intimidation” focused against black and white supporters of the People’s party and progressive Republican coalition. That group had “democratized elections” in 1895- 97 through action in the state General assembly. This historical information comes via Craig Thurtell whose dissertation and forthcoming book has deeply researched this period. He reminds me that the period of disfranchisement lasted from 1900 until the Voting Rights Act was passed on a federal level in 1965.
Back to my task. My job is to listen to the voter who is having trouble. I hear his pain and uncertainty as he valiantly tries to determine when and how he can find the time to vote. I think of the long lines, and what it feels like when you must forego precious hours of salary that could feed your family to try and elect people who care about your struggles to make ends meet.
Something deeper is motivating me to make these calls to North Carolina. My wife was raised by an African-American woman who left her own children in that state to earn enough money up north. So that they would survive. Gracie was the name of that woman and she died this year. I honor her through my volunteer work. I know who she would choose to occupy a White House that was built by African- Americans, slave and free. She can’t cast her ballot this year. The potential voter on the other end of my phone line — He can.
The silence is deafening as the voter and I breathe together in this minute we have before our connection is severed. I ask him: “Which day this week would you choose to vote?” He pauses. “Thursday.” I reply, “So that’s your plan.”
As Halloween trick-or-treaters descend on the state of North Carolina this Saturday, the last day for early voting, I hope this man has exercised his right which so many have sought over so many years to interfere with and remove.
Until then I will keep calling people like him whenever I can. For Gracie.
Neal H. Brodsky, a family and somatic psychotherapist, writer and activist lives in Connecticut near NYC. A contributor to the upcoming Routledge International Handbook of Play, Therapeutic Play & Play Therapy, he practices online during Covid-19. Originally trained as a script writer, his career includes ten years writing grants supporting families in subsidized housing, more than a decade in marketing positions at major U.S. public television stations and programming management at HBO. Neal curates One Jewish Family: News of Ethiopian Jews social media feeds on YouTube, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook. He also writes for publication in The Times of Israel, Medium, and The Forward.
