Being a formerly incarcerated person in this country means that in many ways you become, as civil rights activist Michelle Alexander put it, a “second-class citizen,” punished ad infinitum for mistakes you made in the past but have already paid the price for.
Born and raised outside of Philadelphia, I moved to Florida when I was 30 to surf and bartend on the beach, but quickly fell into a lifestyle of hard partying and poor choices. Before long, I got hooked on pain pills, and then, desperate and lost, I was arrested for dealing in stolen property to support my habit. I was sentenced to 10 years in the Florida Department of Corrections and lost my right to own a gun and vote, among other things. I recall talking to my lawyer after the hearing and asking him why I’d lost so many civil rights. “Because if you’re a convicted felon in this country,” he said, “you will feel like you got a life sentence even when you’re out.”
When I was younger, voting wasn’t that important to me. It wasn’t something I put much thought into or cared about because I wasn’t really included in any of the conversations around the issues. No politicians ever asked me my opinion. I didn’t follow any new legislation or advocate for any causes. Like many young adults, I felt like I didn’t have a voice, and I wasn’t part of the process. I didn’t understand the importance of voting and I didn’t care.
As I reached my twenties and started a family, built a career, and paid higher taxes, I developed an affinity for local politics, followed the news more, and showed new interest in a world outside my own. I learned that my political leaders could directly influence things (good and bad) and that voting was the tool we used to either agree or disagree with them.
By the time I was incarcerated in my thirties, I already had a baseline knowledge about how the election system worked, and I wanted to use my civil right to vote, but being inside disqualified me from casting a ballot, and I had no idea what the rules were when I got out. The only information I had was a judge telling me I was disenfranchised at my sentencing hearing, and a cellmate telling me that I’d lost my voting rights forever.
So I put it to the back of my mind and chalked it up to one more consequence of breaking the law, albeit a ridiculous one that had nothing to do with my offense. After all, what does committing a property crime and having a substance use disorder have to do with voting? As a ward of the state, I was paying a debt to society with my freedom and for a predetermined amount of time … why should any part of a sentence follow me home?
Every state has laws outlining who is eligible to vote, and all states except for Maine and Vermont restrict voting for those currently incarcerated for a felony offense. States also differ on when and how formerly incarcerated people can have their voting rights restored. Pennsylvania is one of 23 states that automatically restore voting rights upon release. Some states require a person to complete parole before they get their right to vote back, while others require actions like paying restitution or filing a request with the governor. This is often difficult for returning citizens to do right out of prison when most are just trying to survive reentry.
When I walked out of the Everglades Correctional Institution in Florida two years ago a free man, I had no idea that my voting rights could be restored. Contrary to what I’d been told, I would be eligible to vote in Florida after paying all my court costs and fines. I learned this through my new friend Desmond Meade, founder of the Florida Rights Restoration Coalition, who helped pass Amendment 4, restoring voting rights to 1.4 million formerly incarcerated people.
When I was in custody, I was never told by the Florida DOC that my rights could be restored, even after I wrote letters to the administration requesting information. It is not common practice for a state Department of Corrections to notify incarcerated residents or returning citizens of their voting rights while in custody or upon release. Nor is it well known that in Pennsylvania, if you are being held pre-trial or in a county jail for a misdemeanor, you are legally able to vote by absentee ballot. Unfortunately, far too few take advantage of this civil right, presumably because they aren’t aware of the laws that protect them.
According to WHYY, a 2020 study found that “out of 25,000 eligible voters in Pennsylvania’s county jails, only 50 applied for a ballot,” leading one to believe that many of these residents were never told that they could vote in absentia, and many others simply chose not to vote.
This voter apathy and the information desert surrounding the restoration of voting rights equals a low number of justice-impacted voters. Many people just don’t know that they’re allowed to vote after being released. One way that Philadelphia’s criminal justice system is trying to better inform people of their voting rights is through an initiative requiring the court to tell defendants they are eligible to vote upon release from incarceration. The goal is to make sure returning citizens understand their voting rights have not been suspended for life just because of their conviction.
That’s exactly what I thought until I met Desmond, who advised me of my right to vote in Florida after I paid my fines. When I told him I was moving back home to Philly to be with my family, he had a Center City attorney call me and assure me that no one would arrest me for registering to vote in Pennsylvania because the state law is that your rights are restored when you walk out of prison.
The psychological fear of not being allowed to vote and the guilt from always being told you’re less than runs deep in the justice-impacted community, and hinders many returning citizens from exercising their rights. Additionally, there are legal and systemic barriers to voting as well. For example, a person with a sex charge cannot legally enter some places that are used as polling stations, such as schools. And the system is designed to make things harder for prisoners, not easier — imagine trying to get an absentee ballot from a correctional officer who has no good reason to help you with anything. County Jail and DOC employees are rarely held accountable for “minor” infractions like not providing voting opportunities.
Voting in any type of election provides an important way to voice your opinions regarding elected leaders and overall policies. It’s one of the most revered constitutional rights in America, and we need to find more solutions to let people know what their rights are after they’ve paid their dues.