me on monday wrote a story for Vogue About becoming a poll worker in Pennsylvania. I volunteered in hopes of avoiding the election day news cycle. What I gained from this experience was more profound than I could have ever imagined and will stay with me as I begin to think about what comes next for my family, my friends, and the country I love so much.

At 5:45 a.m., I hopped on my bike and rode the mile and a half to Helen S. Faison Academy of Art, a K-5 Pittsburgh Public School. Despite its proximity, I had never been to this school before and had not spent much time in the neighborhood. The Academy of Arts is located in the Homewood neighborhood of Pittsburgh, a historically and predominantly black community. I was excited to spend the day somewhere new.

When I got in the car, I was greeted by the Electoral Judge from another district who shared the same gym as us. The Election Judge oversees day-to-day operations and is usually a person who has worked on many elections before. When in doubt, ask your Election Judge. He and his entire family had been working at the polls for decades. From the moment I met him I knew he would run a tight ship and make sure everyone had a safe and free choice.

We got ready quickly and the doors opened at 7am. There were no long queues, unlike what many people saw on TV. There were 200 registered voters at my polling place (75 people had voted by the end of the day). There were about 300 people in the other area sharing the space. As a first-time surveyor, I was grateful to be working in a smaller area. There are many moving parts to being a poll worker. You must find the voter’s name, make sure he/she does not need to show identification, have him/her sign it, circle the next number on the survey paper twice and write his/her name next to it, add this number to the survey book, write down his/her initials and name. then give them a ballot paper. After the voter finishes voting, we take them to the counting machine and let them insert the ballot paper.

There was also a lot of outage. The first rush occurred from 6 to 8:30 a.m. and then around 5 p.m., but it was fairly slow in the meantime. This gave me the chance to watch the Electoral Judge and his daughters interact with their community and learn more about their family history. Her daughters shared that the reason they do this every election (even the primaries) is because their great-grandmother had to fight for the right to vote and they wanted to keep her legacy alive. Almost everyone who walked through that door to vote knew this family. The act of showing up to vote was a celebration of life and freedom. There were hugs, there were tears, there was gossip, there was great food, there was music and so much more. Every now and then, when things got a little heated, the Electoral Judge (aka Grandpa) would yell “we need to get people to vote” and everyone would quickly get back to work.