I am an Iowan with a disability. I have cerebral palsy. I’ve been privileged with good mobility for much of my life, but as I’ve aged, the cerebral palsy has affected my mobility significantly. I use mobility devices, and the pain and my functional ability differ day to day.
I work for a disability organization that focuses on voting rights advocacy and other disability-related advocacy. Our team travels across the state to audit polling places, help local officials understand what true accessibility looks like, and build connections with community leaders to make the voting process more inclusive.
Sometimes, though, this work can feel endless. There is always more to do, more barriers to remove, and more people to reach. In a society that often prizes individualism and treats empathy as a weakness, it is easy to wonder if our efforts are making a real difference. Recently, however, I experienced firsthand why this work matters so deeply.
I live in the Sherman Hill neighborhood in Des Moines, and my polling place is a church with stairs leading to the basement. There is an accessible sidewalk, but it is a much longer walking route. On Election Day, I was still recovering from a trip that involved long stretches of walking, standing and sitting in airports. It was a high-pain day, and as we pulled up to the polling place, I started to panic. The idea of taking the stairs or walking the long route felt overwhelming and impossible. Every step sent pain through my whole body. For a moment, I even tried to justify in my head that maybe my spouse’s vote could count for both of us.
Then I saw a sign that said, “If you need curbside assistance, call this number or have someone alert a poll worker.” Only 27 states offer this option. My ID was still verified the same way as if I were voting inside the polling place, and two poll workers were present to ensure the process was secure and free from fraud.
I have never requested an Americans with Disabilities Act accommodation to vote before. Most of my life, I have had a “just push through” attitude toward my disability. But through my work, I have learned that accommodations exist for a reason, and that I deserve to use them. I should not have to push through and carry a significant burden to access my community. I am not less than just because I require an accommodation for equal access.
My spouse went inside to let the poll workers know I needed curbside voting, and within seconds, they were outside with a ballot. They were kind, efficient and respectful. It took less than a minute. They even remembered to send my “I Voted” sticker out to the car without my having to ask.
That small act of inclusion meant everything. I know not every voter with a disability has this experience, but on that day, I did. And it reminded me that accessibility is not just about ramps and signs. It is about dignity, empathy, and the simple power of community. This is why the Americans with Disabilities Act and voting rights are important. Communities thrive when all voices can be heard.
Amber Wallingford lives in Des Moines.
This article originally appeared on Des Moines Register: Why curbside voting meant everything to me this year | Letters
Reporting by Amber Wallingford / Des Moines Register
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