Thursday, November 8, 2012

From the Land of Potatoes

I live in Idaho and our voting law states that you are "requested" to provide a government issued photo ID when you vote. With all the talk about Voting While Trans and the potential issues that T voters could face I decided to do my research. I had begun my full time transition an entire week before election day and, thus, had a photo ID that didn't look very much like "Me" anymore.

I learned that my ID might be refused, and that I could then sign an affidavit stating that I was, indeed, me and that I lived at my address and that I was registered to vote. I printed out some web pages about the laws. I printed out pages from the ACLU and wrote their phone numbers on the pages. I printed out the affidavit and filled out all but the signature and witness lines. I took these prepared truths and these ready facts and put them in a file folder, with a file folder label, and tucked it under my arm and went in to vote at my appointed polling place. I proudly walked up, stated my legal name and handed the volunteer my ID.

She took a look at it, looked at me... and handed me a ballot and pointed to an empty booth.

"But, Don't you, but..."

I was all prepared to defend my right to exercise my franchise and demonstrate my preparedness, all she did was look at my license and look at me and send me on in.

Hmm, does that picture really look like me? I mean, people I know fairly well have walked right past me without a hint of recognition, even with eye contact. Am I just one of the many trans gals who voted there that day? Or is it just no big deal? Was it just another opportunity for me to see that I am taking this whole transition and change thing just a bit more seriously than people around me?

Dunno! I voted and went back to work and then went home to watch the results. And I didn't even get to show off all my fancy papers and my diligent research...

1 comment:

  1. It's like I have always said, Dianne.

    It's easy to ignore the truth and avoid reality. People will not say anything about a confusing, uncomfortable situation that is put upon them.

    My mother called it manners. I call it luck