“He never did nothin’ for me,” my mother said in 1989, referring to the mayoral candidate for New York City. “Why should I bother to vote?”
She was 78 and had never voted.
Perhaps she had heard that phrase in childhood. Mother was born in 1920 in Scottsburg, Va., to a family that never had any real opportunity to vote. Virginia had guaranteed the right to vote as a condition of readmission to the U.S. after the Civil War. But the Walton Act of 1894 required that to register, the voter must pass a reading test. Another voting rights act in 1902 established a written test and a tax on voters.
Literacy was rare in those African- American villages only one generation out of slavery. Women were “granted” the right to vote in 1920. But even if they could read, those rural women could not travel all day to Halifax, abandoning the chores, the animals, the meals, the husband and 13 children. They could not make the same 16-mile trip again on voting day and pay the poll tax.
They never saw the man running for office, they never shook his hand and never read of him in the newspaper. In 1920, thus, it was true that politicians “never did nothin’ for me.”
But in 1989, my mother, then a Yellow Cab driver, had actually come face-to-face with David Dinkins, the future New York mayor, and shook his hand. She had seen what he and his opponent, Rudy Giuliani, actually did for a living. She knew what was at stake for the New York citizens.
Still, the phrase ingrained in her youth stuck with her. “He never did nothin’ for me!” And she did not vote.
What my mother didn’t realize was that the huge number of votes cast was more important than the person elected. Voter turnout told the winner, “We are paying attention and we care,” a message impossible to ignore.
Sadly, my mother was unaware that property laws changed to allow her father to actually own the family farm. Voting laws changed to allow her to vote. Employment laws changed to permit her and her siblings to get jobs during the Great Depression.
She was aware of the desegregation of Little Rock schools. I once pointed out that she should vote for candidates who supported the gains made by Rosa Parks. Mother responded: “Those politicians never did nothing for me! If Rosa Parks runs for office, I’ll vote for her!” It was impossible for a politician to pass my mother’s test.
I have seen Colorado governors of the past 20 years and have even shaken some of their hands. I have met Denver mayors, county commissioners, clerks and recorders, state representatives and senators. I’ve seen that they have all done something for me. While I’ve had no contact with presidential candidates, I have seen their deeds and have heard their wisdom. It is essential that I vote, even if no candidate can pass my mother’s test by directly doing something for me.
Since I turned 18, I have voted in every election for which I was eligible. I only wish that my mother, who died a voteless Virginia veteran in 2003, could have experienced the thrill of electing her choice for president. I wish that she could now feel the anticipation of a new leader like Barack Obama or John McCain who will do something for me. It’s only until Nov. 4 can there be any validity in my momma’s proclamation, “He never did nothin’ for me!”
Warren Johnson (tecolote@earthlink.net) is a triathlete and family physician in Brighton.
