WASP News

Today in Australia we are voting.

The Federal elections are being held to determine the next members, of what will be the 45th Australian Parliament.

For my international readers, I should point out that voting in Australia is mandatory for all citizens 18 and over. You need a pretty good excuse to avoid a fine if you fail to vote.

The threat of a fine set me thinking…..

Although my legal name is changed, the electoral register has not caught up. I envisaged a number of scenarios around the disparity between my name and appearance unfolding at the polling station, none of which I particularly wanted to encounter outside of my imagination.

I seriously considered taking the hit and paying the fine, rather than standing in front of a voting official and trying to explain my situation.

However all things considered, I am fortunate to live in a Democracy,  deontological ethics kicked in, and  late this afternoon Jane and I wandered into the local polling station with just a few minutes to go before it closed.

There was still a reasonable amount of activity at the station, last minute voting and canvassing alike.

We reached the first of the polling officials who directed us towards a desk to register our vote, and to be issued with our ballot papers.

Upon arriving at the desk, the next official greeted us warmly and requested our Surname. In front of her was a huge printed volume that, presumably contained  the names of all registered voters in the area.

Jane said, and for added  clarity, spelt  “Aston. A S T O N.” At which point there was a sizeable thud as all discarded pages from “B” though to ‘Z” hit the desk and the official began searching for “AS”

It didn’t take too long for her to find the right section, and then she quickly asked for our given names.  “Jane and Timothy” Jane said clearly, but softly.

The officials  finger, doubtless sore from many voyages up and down the list of names since the polls opened at 08:00 am, then began its next journey through the Astons.

“Ah, here we go.” She said and continued by conforming our address. She then looked at us both and said “Kerry ?”

“No, Timothy.” said Jane a little more firmly.

“Kerry” came the equally firm reply from the efficient, but apparently growingly confused official.

I began to feel a little uncomfortable and rapidly began to “Glisten” (Thanks Jen)

“T I M O T H Y” Jane helpfully suggested. Again firmly, but quietly.

The well travelled finger took another short journey on the page. Once again the official looked up, and in a massively surprised, and very loud voice, reminiscent of the immortal “A Handbag” line proclaimed “You’re Timothy……..!”

At this point I broke my silence and confirmed,  that I was indeed Timothy, or at least had been, but that the rest of the polling station really didn’t need to be made aware of that fact.

She smiled, handed us the ballot papers, one of which must be close to a meter long, and made sure we understood the method for the proportional / preferential ballot papers and directed us to the booths.

Exercising your right to vote always feels good.

Being able to Vote as my true self may be an inalienable right, but it today it felt like a privilege and it was a privilege I  was proud to enjoy.