Chastity and Destiny

CASS COLLINS
Posted 11/30/16

We were canvassing voters in eastern Pennsylvania on Election Day. It was a good day for voting, with clear skies and mild temperatures—the kind of weather candidates pray for. Pennsylvania has …

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Chastity and Destiny

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We were canvassing voters in eastern Pennsylvania on Election Day. It was a good day for voting, with clear skies and mild temperatures—the kind of weather candidates pray for. Pennsylvania has been a crucial state in recent elections, so the candidates don’t let up until the polls close. We had a list of dependable voters, those who had voted before or were newly registered in our party. As we knocked on doors in an apartment complex, we often got a sense of what was inside by the decorations on the door or the printed “oxygen in use” stickers or the throat-clogging wave of tobacco smoke.

Most of our knocks went unanswered. It was mid-day and many people were off at work or school. We would check the box “NH” on our canvass sheets and move on. Some people had already voted. They were usually well-groomed older women, the kind you might find at a charity bridge game. From the open door we glimpsed neat interiors with traditional furnishings. They were happy to be voting in this historic election. When we were told they had already voted for our candidate, we thanked them and moved on, feeling a small surge of excitement.

Being a city-girl, I was struck by how many doors opened to our anonymous knocks. Buildings were unlocked to the outside. This is still a place where security measures are an afterthought, so unlike my hometown Manhattan where police deadbolts rule.

We were trained to ask for the voter on record by name. Occasionally there were multiple voters of like persuasion in a home and we would canvass each of them. One man had come home from the Dominican Republic to vote. His wife did not. A young woman with three children promised to vote later, as did many others who had made arrangements to go to the polls together.

One woman went on a rant about police brutality and vowed she would never vote again. Her logic seemed flawed but her anger was palpable. We didn’t try to reason with her.

An older man in an undershirt had already voted, but expressed his fear about the outcome if our candidate did not win.

Canvassers report only the details, not the nuances of our encounters. We are allowed to transport voters at our own risk, if they need assistance to get to the polling place, but none did.

A large attractive woman with straight white teeth opened the door and I asked if she was Destiny. “No,” she said brightly. “I’m Chastity, she’s Destiny,” pointing to a figure lounging on a couch at the far end of the apartment. Her negligee barely covered her voluptuous curves and she tried to cover up as Chastity encouraged her to speak to us. Chastity explained that she was not registered at this address but her daughter Destiny was just 18 and newly registered. She told us she had not voted and didn’t think she would. A television was on and drapes were drawn, giving the apartment a cave-like feel. I encouraged the young woman to use her new-found prerogative and offered her a card printed with the address of her polling place. We offered her a ride. But her inertia was obvious. She was going back to the couch, to the TV, to the darkened room. She was not going to get dressed today.

We worked harder with Destiny than with any other voter we encountered that day, reminding her of the historic nature of the election, the agency she had as a woman and a new voter. I thought of the hope implicit in her name. But finally, we left. Chastity thanked us for coming by and encouraged us by saying she knew where to get a ride if Destiny changed her mind. I doubt she did. We lost Pennsylvania.

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