Once upon a time in Mexico, all my important documents were destroyed by a cat and a bottle of peroxide. My birth certificate and social security card disintegrated, and my passport separated into pieces. To make matters worse, my driver’s license was invalid because it had been 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 of 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 had to be mailed to an address listed on a valid driver’s license—or to a parent or legal guardian.
I was saved by the fact that my father is alive and well and could request my birth certificate. But what if I hadn’t had a living parent? Or if they were homeless? Or if I were homeless? What if I’d been evicted, fleeing a fire or hurricane, or escaping an abusive ex? It’s not impossible to acquire these documents, but the process isn’t easy—especially for those without access to basic needs, let alone a smartphone. It’s far too easy to get stuck outside the system. Sometimes, all it takes is 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 but don’t care or think it won’t make a difference, ask the people in your life if they’re voting, and if not, why. If they can’t vote, ask them who they would vote for if they could. Vote for the undocumented, the houseless, the felons, those incapacitated by mental or physical illness, those who may skip voting because they’re still struggling to survive after disasters like COVID, fires, or hurricanes—or those who’ve simply given up on the idea of their voice ever being heard.
And if your voice feels unheard too? Know that the numbers we see and hear often contain silences, not of choice, but of red tape stifling the voices of those just as deserving of a place in this country as anyone else.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.