Here the story takes a turn for the worse. Given the conditions of her release, she was not yet authorized to vote. For this unlawful (and unsuccessful) attempt to participate in the election, she was sentenced to an additional five years for voter fraud. The life of Crystal Mason became a cautionary tale, rather than a redemption story with a happy ending.
Is this the sign of a broken democracy or a vigilant one? Mason, misunderstanding her eligibility, tried to cast a vote before she was legally permitted to do so. Those who favor her prosecution say it’s irrelevant that she didn’t know she was breaking the law. For them, protecting democracy means vigorous gatekeeping. Others see the matter differently. They believe protecting democracy means encouraging participation, facilitating easy access and promoting good faith engagements. Honest mistakes by civic-minded citizens call for education and clarifying information, not punishment.
And with the wide array of state and local election laws, mistakes are inevitable. Nearly half the states have recently passed laws making it easier to vote, simplifying things such as registration and absentee balloting. Other states have passed restrictive laws, changing identification requirements, revoking registrations and closing polling places. A few have criminalized routine activities, such as helping a voter prepare a mail ballot or providing water to those stuck in line.
For most people, it’s impossible to keep up; it’s dizzying even for experts. Michigan expanded the acceptable forms of voter identification while Ohio and Kentucky no longer allow state-issued college student IDs. Alabama defied the Supreme Court’s gerrymandering decisions, and Texas is consolidating election power in unelected offices. Maine and Vermont allow people in prison to vote, but Florida created an election police unit — which shows up at 3 a.m. to arrest a 69-year-old woman and holds a man at gunpoint. Their crime? Filling out an unsolicited voter registration card after serving time. They didn’t know it was against the law — apparently, the state didn’t either, sending them both voter registration cards before showing up at their homes, years later, with bulletproof vests and handcuffs.
Two Americas emerge from this patchwork. Mason’s fate could not be more different in each. In one, the glass slipper fits. She’s a free woman, debt to society paid, with a voice and a vote. In the other, she’s a villain, deserving of more time locked away.
Which America do we aspire to be?
It matters whether we choose to err on the side of access, or let scrutiny and penalty prevail. In practice, “election integrity” seems little more than a euphemism for voter suppression, because restricting access to the ballot lands hardest on voters of color, people who are poor and those whose mistakes temporarily cost them their freedom.
Court proceedings and the notes of right-wing strategists provide damning evidence that these restrictive voting measures are sly attempts to secure permanent election advantages by diminishing Black voting power. Advocates for these laws claim they haven’t suppressed the vote and note that turnout has been relatively high in recent elections. But these outcomes are evidence of sustained voter education and mobilization campaigns, led by those who err on the side of access.
Sometimes a people’s civic spirit outworks bad partisan law and policy. That’s when democracy is most protected. It’s most special when people such as Mason — a woman, formerly incarcerated and Black; three peoples our democracy has fought hardest to keep out — can reclaim her place in it. It’s most distorted when an unintentional error sends an aspiring voter to prison.
Even schoolchildren can tell the difference. I told Mason’s story to a group of young girls attending a civic education workshop in South Orange, N.J., a couple of years ago. They listened intently — middle-schoolers and Black, full of optimism and energy — their curious eyes tracking the tale’s twists and turns. When things turned for the worse, they were indignant: “But she didn’t know! That’s not right!” Their enchantment with her story turned to focus on action: Where was she now? Who’s helping her? Is this how democracy works?
Six years have passed since Mason’s conviction, an appeal is ongoing. The state of Texas is deciding her fate. Dragged back into the system, she initially vowed never to try to vote again. But years in legal limbo have transformed her into a champion for democracy. “I have been called to this fight for voting rights and will continue to serve my community,” she’s declared, while also cautioning, “Let my story be a lesson.” Not a fairy tale ending, perhaps, but maybe one where the glass slipper fits her after all.
Credit: Source link
