Around the country – and particularly in conservative circles –
there has been a full-court press to require photo identification cards for
voting. From my perspective, this is
nothing more than voter suppression: an effort to prevent those least likely
from having photo ids (students who do not drive yet; senior citizens who no
longer drive; immigrants; minorities; those whose drivers licenses expired
while they were homeless, incarcerated, or being foreclosed upon). But I have run into some fairly reasonable
people who don’t see why it is so hard to require a simple picture id in order
to vote (in spite of the fact that there is no widespread, documented voter
fraud anywhere in the country).
And while I am often quick to share my own adventures, I am
somewhat guarded when speaking of my children, all of whom are adopted, and all
of whom ‘own’ their own stories; I am reluctant to speak ‘about them.’ But this voter id nonsense gives me a platform
to explain just how this impacts people – real people. And so, here are the tales of two real
people, eligible voters, both of whom are my children (names changed), and both of whom went
through hell trying to get proper identification, though both were eligible and
American citizens.
Flashback to 1986. A young
two year old boy ("David") and his five year old sister are found
wandering the streets of Brooklyn, NY. Some
neighborhood residents see the children, and ask where there mother is, and if
they are lost. The five year-old is unsure of the specific events, but makes it
clear that her mommy had sent them away and was gone. They were walking around looking for
something to eat and a place to sleep.
As is culturally common in urban black communities where suspicion
of authorities runs high, a grandmotherly woman (“Vera”) took the children into
her house and fed them, as people fanned out in the neighborhood trying to find
the children’s mother. That woman was
never found, and so David and his sister stayed at Vera’s house. (Social
workers in urban black communities are very aware that in these circles, children
are much more likely to be informally cared for by relatives and friends than ‘put through the system.’)
Before long, David and his sister grew attached to Vera (and vice
versa), and, in spite of her distrust of
authorities, Vera went to the NYC Department of Social Services to obtain legal
foster care of the children. In a
typically bureaucratic action, the Department took physical custody of the
young girl, reasoning that Vera was too old to care for her, but left David in
her custody and began the foster care paperwork. With the children split up,
any hope for learning more of their origins disappeared.
In time, Vera and David would leave NY and join Vera’s extended
family in Massachusetts. David was enrolled in school, and life was ‘normal’ –
until Vera developed cancer. I had come
to know Vera through community activities, and, on her deathbed, she asked if I
would take David into my house when she died.
I agreed, and David became my son. Upon her death, I went to the
courthouse and asked for Legal Guardianship of David, which was granted.
Around this time, I was planning a trip overseas, and needed to get
David a passport. And that’s when the
fun really began.
I had legal guardianship of an adolescent boy who had no birth
certificate. The foster care paperwork
begun in New York with Vera had never been finalized, and so even her ability
to legally place him into my care was questionable.
In an effort to ‘do things right,’ I went to the State Department
in Boston to try and explain everything and obtain a passport for David. I brought with me all the paperwork I had,
and made my case. I gave them Vera’s certified death certificate, and
the incomplete foster care paperwork, and the court-ordered guardianship
papers.
What I never realized was that since Vera had lost David’s sister
to The State due to her age, she lied on the foster care paperwork for David about her age –
by ten years. The eagle-eyes at the
State Department saw that Vera’s death certificate and her foster care
paperwork had different birthdates for Vera, and I was arrested, under
suspicion of attempting to smuggle a child across international borders.
If not for the fact that I had a political job with strong ties to
then-Senator Ted Kennedy’s office, I would have spent the night in jail, but
some quick phone calls and wrangling from the Senate freed me.
In time, I would approach a Judge (who knew my family), who would issue
a court order directing the State Department to issue a passport for
David. We would then go backwards, and,
using the Passport, demand a Birth Certificate from the City of New York (who
could find no such record, but, in the face of a passport, assumed they lost
it, some they issued us one). And then
finally, three years later, David would get a drivers license.
It is easy to point fingers here: Vera shouldn’t have taken him in,
should have reported him and his sister to authorities immediately, should have
completed the foster care paperwork, should not have lied about her age.
But we are not talking about Vera (and unless you understand the
fear and suspicion in minority communities when it comes to social workers and
police, her actions may be hard to understand, but Vera was a *survivor* in a
system stacked against her).
We are talking about David.
A child buffeted by the winds of adult’s decisions – and who, if not for my
own political and judicial connections, might still be a ‘non-person.’ A non-person who still has a right to Vote.
But David’s story is nothing compared to my son Thaddeus.
Thad was born in Trinidad, and legally adopted by me in the
1990s. That means that both his Passport
and Birth Certificate are issued by Trinidad, and his Adoption Certificate is
issued by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts (the story of how it took over a
year to get him into the US because of stupidity at the US Immigration Office
in Boston is another story, but not germane to this one…)
The Child Citizenship Act of 2000 (8 U.S.C. 1101) provides as follows:
“A child born outside of the United States automatically becomes a
citizen of the United States when all of the following conditions have been
fulfilled:
1) At least one parent of the child is a citizen of the United
States, whether by birth of naturalization;
2) The child is under the age of eighteen years;
3) The child is residing in the United States in the legal and
physical custody of the citizen aprent pursuant to a lawful admission for
permanent residence”
This is FEDERAL LAW. It is
mind-boggling how many bureaucrats, when given a copy of the law and Thad’s
paperwork, simply stare and blink, afraid to think and take reasonable action.
Thad is an American citizen.
He has a U.S. Social Security Card.
He went through all the explanations, discussions, and repeat visits to the New Hampshire Department
of Motor Vehicles to obtain his driver’s license.
And then he moved to New York.
Trying his best simply to follow the law, get a job, and be
responsible, he went to a potential employer and was required to fill out the
federal I-9.
Unfortunately, his Trinidadian passport was not seen as valid. His adoption certificate was not valid. His Social Security card didn’t have a
picture. His Driver’s License was from
New Hampshire.
So Thad, now living with his grandmother in NY, went to Motor Vehicles
in Westbury to turn in his NH License and get a NY Driver’s License.
After hours (literally) of lines, he was rejected, because the
state of New Hampshire had misspelled his name – Thaddeus – as Thaddues. He was
told he must have a corrected NH License before he could be granted a NY
license.
But New Hampshire will only mail licenses to an individual at their personal NH residence, and
Thad now lived in NY, so that couldn't happen. After many phone calls and research, the NH Department of Transportation agreed to send
a certified letter to Thad admitting their error on the original license. Armed with that document, Thad went back and
spent another half-day at NY motor vehicles.
In spite of the Federal Law, and in spite of being told earlier
that all he needed was a corrected NH license, he was now told that wasn't enough; he would
have to have a US Passport to obtain a driver’s license. (Why? You don't need to travel abroad in order to
drive domestically! But the Automotons at Westbury want to cover their asses, not serve the public.)
So, $260 later, Thad eagerly awaited the package from the Dept of
State (and all during this time he couldn’t get a job, or drive, in spite of
having a job lined up and being more than willing to work ).
The U.S. Department of State rejected his application for a U.S.
Passport.
Why? Because in spite of
having a certified adoption certificate and everything required, the State
Department decided that they needed to have the Docket Number of the original
court case when Thad’s adoption was finalized.
(This is the number that is used by courts for scheduling hearings, but it
is not normally transcribed on adoption certificates in Massachusetts, or elsewhere for that matter).
So, back to Massachusetts to get a docket number – except that the court
that originally approved Thad's adoption had been closed for budgetary reasons,
and all records were sealed and boxed in a warehouse somewhere in Boston, and
it would take days, perhaps weeks, to find this specific record.
Miraculously – on a
17-year-old scrap of paper shoved into his adoption file, I had written down
the court hearing information from that day long ago - and had included
the docket number. We forwarded the
information, and the State Department was contacted again.
On Saturday, Thad’s US Passport arrived. Yesterday, Thad returned to Motor Vehicles in
Westbury.
As is always the case in Westbury, the lines were long and the wait
interminable. As the hours ticked by,
his 72-year old grandmother, who accompanied him, needed to make a phone call
as she was running late for an appointment.
To be polite, she stepped out into the lobby.
While she was talking, the guard locked the door. Apparently,
Quitting Time had come to Motor Vehicles.
In the meantime, Thad was inside, with 26 people still online in front
of him. When he got to the counter, he
had everything except the fee to pay for the license, because his grandmother
had it.
They wouldn't let her back in.
They wouldn't let her pass the check to Thad. They wouldn't let her pass it to the guard to
pass it to Thad.
So today, they will go back to Motor Vehicles and see what
adventure lies in store.
The moral of these stories?
Those of you who think a photo id is a simple matter, think
again. The Republican efforts to
require photo ids is designed to frustrate and delay and disenfranchise. If my two sons – both of whom are legitimate
American citizens – have to go through this nonsense just to prove who they are
– how many persons, with less tenacity, fewer resources, less ability to spend money
or spend days on line, with fewer political connections….will simply give up?
And isn't that the Republican's real goal?
Voting in the United States is a Constitutional Right – not an
award to be earned by running a bureaucratic triathlon.
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