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    In Latino-Majority San Antonio, New Faces at the Head of the Table

    With the election of a Japanese American as leader of the county government, San Antonio now has politicians of Asian descent in its two top positions.SAN ANTONIO — Peter Sakai, a second-generation Japanese American, was serving as a family court judge in San Antonio, which is largely Hispanic, when he was reminded of how much he stood out.Mr. Sakai had just made a ruling that did not favor a mother appearing in his court, he recalled, when the woman reacted by blurting out an expletive in Spanish and then “Chino,” which translates as “Chinese” but is often used as a derogatory catchall term, aiming to lump all Asian nationalities as one.“No hable así en esta corte,” he recalled responding. “Yo quiero respeto. Y también no soy Chino. Soy Japonés.” — “Don’t talk like this in this court. I want respect. And also, I’m not Chinese. I’m Japanese.”Mr. Sakai, 68, whose father had been confined in one of the World War II-era Japanese American internment camps, feels he has earned that respect. Mr. Sakai, who grew up in South Texas, was sworn in last month as the county judge for Bexar County, a metropolitan area of about two million people that includes San Antonio, the nation’s seventh-largest city. He is the first Asian American to hold that title, the top position in the county government.As it happens, the person holding the other top position in San Antonio, Mayor Ron Nirenberg, 45, is also part Asian. One parent’s background includes Filipino, Malaysian and Indian ancestry and the other has roots in European Jewry. The two men make up an unlikely leadership team for an area that had never before elected a person of Asian descent to either position and where Asian Americans make up about 3 percent of the population.The mayor of San Antonio, Mr. Nirenberg, is in his third term and is planning to run for a fourth.Christopher Lee for The New York TimesBut many see less a sign of Asian American political success and influence and more an indication that voters may be less wedded to candidates’ ethnic identity as a way to make political decisions than in the past.Rosa Rosales, 78, a longtime activist in San Antonio, said that by the time Mr. Sakai decided to run for the county’s top spot he was “a household name already.”“It wasn’t a person that came out of nowhere,” Ms. Rosales said. “He is a person dedicated to the community, to the people, regardless of race, color or age.”The San Antonio region, long known as one of the leading centers of Mexican American culture in the United States, has historically elected white men like Nelson Wolff, who was county judge for two decades, and Latino leaders, many of whom went on to gain national attention, including the twin brothers Joaquin and Julián Castro, and Henry Cisneros, a former mayor of San Antonio.Asian American politicians have risen to power in communities with large Asian American populations, like San Francisco. But their presence in Texas politics has been less visible. Hispanic residents make up the largest ethnic group in Bexar County, at 60 percent, followed by white people, at nearly 27 percent.Both Mr. Sakai and Mr. Nirenberg won voters over with agendas that appealed to a large Democratic Latino base, like promising to lift people out of poverty and keep families together in a culture where it is not unusual for several generations to live under the same roof or close by. Mr. Sakai, who spent nearly three decades as a civil court judge, has made family and children’s issues a hallmark of his political career.Mr. Sakai, who spent nearly three decades as a civil court judge, has made family and children’s issues a hallmark of his political career.Christopher Lee for The New York TimesJoe Gonzales, the district attorney and the highest-ranking Latino in Bexar County government, said Mr. Sakai’s victory was a result of many years of shaking hands with the area’s movers and shakers, and of making himself familiar to the Latino majority. “He’s a well-known figure in this county,” Mr. Gonzales said.When it came time to cast her vote for county judge, Elsie Cuellar, 53, a retired banker, said the ethnicity of the candidates was not a concern. Ms. Cuellar said she was familiar with Mr. Sakai’s long tenure as a family judge. “For me it didn’t matter if the candidates were Mexican American or not,” she said. “It depended on what they were going to do.”Mr. Sakai presided over his first county commission meeting on Jan. 10. After it adjourned, he walked the halls of the county offices in downtown San Antonio. Cynthia Guerrero, 50, who works in the building shining shoes, waved to him.“Y como está su comadre?” — “How’s your child’s godmother?” he asked her.“Good, at church,” she replied in Spanish.Ms. Guerrero said she voted for Mr. Sakai over Latino candidates for the office because she liked what he said about family values as well as his plans to create social programs intended to lift people out of poverty. Nearly 18 percent of the region’s population lives in poverty.“His last name stood out, because there aren’t any other Sakais here,” Ms. Guerrero said. “I don’t care about race. He’s the best man for the job.”Mr. Sakai’s ancestral journey began in Japan, where his maternal grandparents left for America in the 1920s and found their way to the Rio Grande Valley. Sometime later, his paternal grandparents left Japan for the Imperial Valley in Southern California.Mr. Sakai, who grew up in South Texas, was sworn in as the Bexar County judge last month, the first Asian American to hold the position.Christopher Lee for The New York TimesThe Sakais, he learned, were sent to internment camps that were created during World War II and served as detainment locations for people of Japanese ancestry in the West, even those born in the United States.When Mr. Sakai was growing up, he recalled, his father told him that he enlisted in the U.S. Army once he turned 18 in order to leave the camps behind. “It helped me understand how precious our constitutional rights are, and how we can be influenced by obviously mass hysteria and racist hatred,” Mr. Sakai said.After the war, his father, Pete Yutaka Sakai, relocated to the Rio Grande Valley, where he met his mother, Rose Marie Kawahata. Mr. Sakai grew up in the mostly Mexican American community of the valley.“I got into a few fights when I was in high school,” he recalled. “It was tough being a minority among minorities.”Mr. Sakai left the border region to obtain a law degree from the University of Texas School of Law in 1979 and later settled in San Antonio, where he worked as an assistant district attorney and in private practice. He was named a family court judge in the mid-1990s and served as a judge in various courts for nearly 30 years.Like Mr. Sakai, Mr. Nirenberg and his wife, Erika Prosper, who is Mexican American, moved to San Antonio to start a new life. He ran first for a City Council seat, and went on to win three consecutive mayoral races. “We are raising a Latino son,” he said, adding that San Antonio’s Hispanic culture has “always been a strong component of how I govern.”San Antonio’s Hispanic culture has “always been a strong component of how I govern.” Mr. Nirenberg said.Christopher Lee for The New York TimesDuring the primary contest, Mr. Sakai garnered 41 percent of the vote, more than any of his three Latino opponents but not enough to win the Democratic nomination outright. In a runoff, he handily defeated Ina Minjarez, then a state representative, with nearly 60 percent of the vote.His race became a focal point of the campaign during the general election campaign, when his Republican opponent, Trish DeBerry, began referring to him as Dr. No, the name of the title villain in a 1960s James Bond movie, a stereotypically sinister character who was half Chinese and half German.During a candidates’ debate in the fall hosted by the Deputy Sheriffs’ Association, Ms. DeBerry portrayed Mr. Sakai as a candidate who was opposed to finding a new place for the county jail and to building a baseball stadium downtown. “My opponent, Dr. No — he said nothing about these issues,” she said to audible gasps from the audience.In response to a request for comment, Ms. DeBerry said to refer to statements she made at the time. Last year, she refused to apologize after the Asian American Alliance of San Antonio, the Sakai campaign and others condemned her remarks. During a contentious debate aired on Texas Public Radio before the election, she insisted that she was not aware of the name’s racist history. That term, she said, is “used to describe someone who says no to everything.”Today, Mr. Sakai, who went on to defeat Ms. DeBerry by 21 points in the general election, describes the episode as “disappointing.”Mr. Sakai said he had learned to embrace the way he is described by many Latinos in his district. Adding the suffix “-ito” to the word Chino, as in Chinito, can give it a more affectionate quality, depending on how it is used, he has discovered.In fact, as the campaign wound down, there was one phrase his pollsters repeatedly heard: “Yo voto por el Chinito.”During his swearing-in ceremony, he incorporated a Chinese lion dance into the event. It was his way of sending a nod to his Asian voters, he said.“I personally think it was the hit of the show,” he said. More

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    New Voting Laws Add Difficulties for People With Disabilities

    Laura Halvorson was ready to vote. On Thursday afternoon, she sat in front of a ballot screen at the Igo Library in San Antonio, after spending a month preparing for this moment. It was the first time in years that she had been in a public place, other than a doctor’s office.Sitting in her wheelchair, she wore two masks — one a KN95, the other a part of her breathing machine. Because Ms. Halvorson, 38, has muscular dystrophy, a condition that progressively decreases muscle mass, and makes her more vulnerable to Covid-19, she needed to use a remote-control device supplied by poll workers to make her ballot selections.No one knew how it worked.The glitch was one of many obstacles she had to navigate, both on that day and over the previous weeks, to fulfill what she saw as her civic duty. For Ms. Halvorson and others with disabilities, casting a ballot can always present a challenge. But new voting restrictions enacted in several states over the past two years have made it even harder.A law signed last year by Gov. Greg Abbott of Texas, a Republican, has made it more difficult for voters to cast ballots by mail and narrowed their options for voting in person, according to groups that advocate for people with disabilities and voting rights. Other Republican-led state legislatures, including in Georgia and Florida, have passed similar measures as a part of what they say are efforts to prevent voter fraud, despite rare occurrences of the crime.“Instead of embracing the more accessible forms of voting that sparked record turnout, including among voters with disabilities,” said Brian Dimmick, a senior staff attorney for the disability rights program of the American Civil Liberties Union, “states have doubled down on new and more restrictive voter-suppression laws.”None of the new laws single out those with disabilities, but advocates say they have left many people who would otherwise vote by mail with burdensome options: face the greater risk that their mail-in ballot could be thrown out — as Texas did at a higher-than-usual rate during the March primary — or go to the polls in person, which involves its own set of inconveniences or, worse, physical barriers, and often deprives people with disabilities of a sense of privacy and independence that other voters can take for granted.A polling place in Brooklyn. Nearly two million people with disabilities reported that they had some difficulty voting in the November 2020 election — double the rate of people without disabilities.Anna Watts for The New York Times“Voters with disabilities are being disenfranchised by all these new laws, from onerous ID requirements to longer lines, making the entire process less accessible,” said Shira Wakschlag, the senior director of legal advocacy at The Arc, a disability advocacy organization.Several Texas Republicans who supported the new voting law did not respond to requests for comment about its effect on people with disabilities, although a spokeswoman for Governor Abbott said in a statement that it “protects the rights of disabled Texans to request reasonable accommodations or modifications.” At a hearing last year, State Senator Bryan Hughes, the Texas bill’s author, described accommodations for voters with disabilities as potential security risks, and said narrowing them would stop others from “using those opportunities to cheat.”Voting could already be difficult for those with disabilities. About 17.7 million reported voting in the November 2020 election, according to a report by the Program for Disability Research at Rutgers University and the U.S. Election Assistance Commission. Eleven percent of them, or nearly two million people, reported that they had some difficulty voting in that election — almost double the rate of people without disabilities.The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsElection Day is Tuesday, Nov. 8.Final Landscape: As candidates make their closing arguments, Democrats are bracing for potential losses even in traditionally blue corners of the country as Republicans predict a red wave.The Battle for Congress: With so many races on edge, a range of outcomes is still possible. Nate Cohn, The Times’s chief political analyst, breaks down four possible scenarios.Voting Worries: Even as voting goes smoothly, fear and suspicion hang over the process, exposing the toll former President Donald J. Trump’s falsehoods have taken on American democracy.The right to vote privately and independently was enshrined 20 years ago by Congress in the Help America Vote Act, which was the first law to require polling places to have accessible voting systems. The law also established the federal Election Assistance Commission, an independent body that sets guidelines for states and counties to accommodate disabled voters, which can be enforced by the Justice Department.Despite the law, Thomas Hicks, the commission chairman, said disabled voters still encountered problems, including those who are blind and have trouble locating accessible voting locations, and those who use wheelchairs and need voting machines to be low enough or adjustable to eye level.For Ms. Halvorson, a former special education teacher, the difficulties include being able to raise her hands and tap the screen of a voting machine, she said, because of her reduced motor skills. She lives with her partner, accompanied by different caregivers, in a one-story house in San Antonio, and also relies on a breathing machine to survive; a bad case of pneumonia in 2014 weakened her lungs, and she was not able to make a full recovery.Voting by mail made things simpler for her. But after reports that Texas had thrown out more than 18,000 mail-in ballots from its most populous counties during the March primaries, Ms. Halvorson — who cannot write on her own and feared having to appeal a rejected ballot — felt she had no other choice but to vote in person. She wanted to “see the ballot go in” herself, she said — even if it meant risking her health.“This election is too important to wait to find out if my vote counted,” she said.A week of research about voting in person led Ms. Halvorson to a new kind of machine that Texas had recently put in place, allowing a remote to be connected to the screen and used to make selections. She called her county clerk to ensure those machines would be present at the Igo Library, her local polling place. She did not hear back, she said.Ms. Halvorson entered her polling place on Thursday, on a trip that she began preparing for a month earlier. Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York TimesLydia Nunez Landry, a disability rights activist in Houston who has a different form of muscular dystrophy, said her experience using the remote on the first day of early voting went so poorly — including a poll worker seeing Ms. Landry’s chosen candidates — that she immediately filed a complaint with the Justice Department.“I’m just so angry,” Ms. Landry said. “They constantly are changing things, it feels like, to the disability community. We’re just so confused.”Ms. Halvorson wanted a caregiver to accompany her to the polling place in case she had a similar experience and needed help. She also scheduled a coronavirus vaccine booster shot exactly two weeks before the end of early voting..css-1v2n82w{max-width:600px;width:calc(100% – 40px);margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:25px;height:auto;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;font-family:nyt-franklin;color:var(–color-content-secondary,#363636);}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-1v2n82w{margin-left:20px;margin-right:20px;}}@media only screen and (min-width:1024px){.css-1v2n82w{width:600px;}}.css-161d8zr{width:40px;margin-bottom:18px;text-align:left;margin-left:0;color:var(–color-content-primary,#121212);border:1px solid var(–color-content-primary,#121212);}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-161d8zr{width:30px;margin-bottom:15px;}}.css-tjtq43{line-height:25px;}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-tjtq43{line-height:24px;}}.css-x1k33h{font-family:nyt-cheltenham;font-size:19px;font-weight:700;line-height:25px;}.css-1hvpcve{font-size:17px;font-weight:300;line-height:25px;}.css-1hvpcve em{font-style:italic;}.css-1hvpcve strong{font-weight:bold;}.css-1hvpcve a{font-weight:500;color:var(–color-content-secondary,#363636);}.css-1c013uz{margin-top:18px;margin-bottom:22px;}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-1c013uz{font-size:14px;margin-top:15px;margin-bottom:20px;}}.css-1c013uz a{color:var(–color-signal-editorial,#326891);-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;font-weight:500;font-size:16px;}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-1c013uz a{font-size:13px;}}.css-1c013uz a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}How we call winners on election night. We rely on The Associated Press, which employs a team of analysts, researchers and race callers who have a deep understanding of the states where they declare winners. In some tightly contested races, we independently evaluate A.P. race calls before declaring a winner.Here’s more about how it works.On Thursday morning, Ms. Halvorson viewed an online guide to the candidates one more time. Her former service dog, Houston, wagged his tail as he put his paws in her lap and begged for treats.She drove to the library with one of her daytime caregivers, Shae-Lynn Lewis, in a large orange, wheelchair-accessible van. A parking spot for the disabled was available, which often is not the case, Ms. Halvorson said. Then it was time to take an inventory. Ms. Halvorson ticked off aloud what to bring inside: phone, identification, water bottle, hand sanitizer and wipes, and the absentee ballot she needed to turn in.Inside the library, a voting clerk wearing a U.S. Marine Corps veteran cap waved people through to the polling room.One of the tokens of Ms. Halvorson’s day. Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York TimesMs. Halvorson and her caregiver entered and waited in line to turn in the absentee ballot and receive a remote. Ms. Halvorson later said her heart “was beating out of her chest” as she saw all the people around her without masks on in such close quarters.After securing the remote and pulling in front of a voting machine, she began trying to click through on the side buttons, but the screen did not respond. She said she asked for help, but none of the workers seemed to know how it worked, either.After a few tries, she said, the up and down buttons on the remote made the screen respond. It was still hard to read, however, as the font seemed to be enlarged and cut off the party affiliations for candidates she didn’t know.The Bexar County elections administrator, Jacquelyn Callanen, did not respond to requests for comment about Ms. Halvorson’s voting experience.While at least two dozen people entered and exited the voting area within minutes, Ms. Halvorson remained inside, trying to navigate the machine. After about half an hour, she was able to deposit her ballot.Later, she said she felt fortunate that her experience was not worse. Still, she said, “It should be smooth for literally everybody.”Before Ms. Halvorson left, one observer acknowledged her efforts. “The man gave me two ‘I voted’ stickers,” she said. “He said it’s because I had to go through twice as much as everybody else.”Ava Sasani More