Once upon a time in Mexico, all my documents were destroyed by a cat and a bottle of peroxide. My birth certificate and social security card disintegrated and my passport separated. Furthermore, my driver’s licence was invalid because it was issued to a previous address (and the cat’s passport was Mexican so he was, once again, not helpful.)
Thus began an eye-opening journey in proving my right to live and work in the country where I was born and raised.
For job and rental applications, I needed a passport or driver’s license and social security card.
To get a social security card, I needed a valid driver’s license.
To get a valid driver’s license, I needed a passport or birth certificate.
To get a birth certificate, it must be mailed to the address on a valid driver’s license—or to a parent or legal guardian.
In the end I was saved by the fact my father is alive and well and could request my birth certificate. But if I’d not had a living parent? Or they’d been homeless? If I’d been homeless? Evicted, or fleeing fires, hurricanes or an abusive ex? It’s not impossible to still acquire these documents but the process isn’t easy—especially for those without access to basic needs, much less a smartphone—and it’s far easier than we think to get stuck outside the system. It can be something as unexpected as a mischievous cat.
My point? To register to vote without documents, a permanent address, a bank account… is also a pain in the ass.
If you have the right to vote and really don’t care or don’t think it’ll make a difference, ask the people in your life if they’re voting and if not, why not. If they can’t, ask them who they’d vote for if they could. Vote for the undocumented, the houseless, the felons, those incapacitated by mental or physical illness, those who’ll maybe just skip it because they’re still traumatized and struggling to survive after COVID or fires or hurricanes, or those who’ve just given up hope of their voices being heard.
And if your voice isn’t heard either? Know the numbers contain unlisted silences that aren’t always chosen but rather, red tape over mouths desiring a place in this country just as much as anyone. And if you pay attention, no counting of numbers will be able to convince you they don’t exist.
(And don’t ever store peroxide near important documents.)
Jess Lee
JESS LEEis an environmental & community advocate drawn to borders, ecotones, and the shadows between the lines. She was raised in the forests of Appalachia and lived for many years in Mexico, Hawaii and the Pacific Northwest. Her short stories and essays have been published in Cutthroat, Burnt Pine, The Humanist and Z Magazine.