On a brisk November morning in Virginia, voters lined up at polling stations in Hillsboro and Alexandria, casting ballots as part of the state’s routine democratic exercise. But for more than 300,000 Virginians, the right to participate in this fundamental act remains out of reach. That’s because Virginia stands as one of just three states in the U.S. where only the governor can restore voting rights for people with felony convictions—a policy that’s now facing both legal and political challenges that could reshape the state’s approach to democracy.
At the center of the current movement is Tati King, a 54-year-old resident of Alexandria. King’s journey to the federal courthouse is deeply personal. After a 2018 felony drug possession conviction, he served 11 months in prison and lost his right to vote. Now, he’s suing Virginia election officials in federal court, seeking not just the restoration of his own rights, but also a broader change for others in his position. "I want them to see that their grandfather was on the right side of things for once in his life," King told NPR, referencing the example he hopes to set for his grandchildren.
King’s lawsuit cuts to the heart of a long-standing debate: Should the right to vote be automatically restored to individuals who have completed their sentences, or should it remain at the discretion of the state’s highest executive? King and his supporters—including the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) of Virginia—argue that Virginia’s disenfranchisement policy violates the Virginia Readmission Act of 1870. That law, enacted as the state rejoined the Union after the Civil War, prohibited Virginia from passing new laws that would strip citizens of their voting rights, except in cases of so-called “common law felonies” as defined at the time. While those crimes included murder and manslaughter, they did not include drug offenses like the one for which King was convicted.
"Virginia’s one of the only states where we still have to go through hurdles and hoops in order for somebody to tell you, 'OK, now we see you,'" King said, describing the arduous process. "I think the laws are draconian, I think they're archaic and it should be changed." According to filings in King’s legal challenge, thousands of Virginians could regain their voting rights if his case succeeds.
Virginia’s policy is particularly notable because, while Iowa and Kentucky also require gubernatorial approval for rights restoration, both of those states have implemented executive orders to make the process automatic for most people with felony convictions. Virginia, in contrast, has zigzagged over the years. Previous governors—two Democrats and a Republican—had taken steps to make restoration automatic in most cases. But current Governor Glenn Youngkin, a Republican, reversed those efforts, instituting a case-by-case review system that has led to far fewer people regaining their rights. Youngkin’s office says each application is reviewed individually, considering the nature of the felony, whether a weapon was used, and whether court fees have been paid.
This approach has drawn criticism for its lack of transparency and consistency. Rebecca Green, a law professor at William and Mary, described the current environment as "a very low information environment," making it difficult for individuals to understand their status or what steps they must take. The protocol has also sparked lawsuits and questions about the criteria used to make these life-altering decisions.
The impact of Virginia’s policy is not evenly distributed. According to a 2024 report from the Sentencing Project, which advocates for alternatives to incarceration, an estimated four million Americans have lost their right to vote because of felony convictions. The report found that one in every 22 eligible Black voters was disenfranchised in this way—more than triple the rate for other voters. "Virginia has been illegally disenfranchising people, and disproportionately Black people, who were targeted with this disenfranchisement after the Civil War for more than 100 years," said Vishal Agraharkar, a senior supervising attorney for the ACLU of Virginia who is working on King’s case. "We're hoping that we can put that legacy of Jim Crow behind us."
Change, however, may be on the horizon. Democrat Abigail Spanberger, Virginia’s governor-elect, has promised to overhaul the current system. Spanberger has vowed to ensure that all eligible Virginians who have completed their sentences will have their voting rights restored. Her administration is expected to move away from the discretionary, case-by-case approach favored by Youngkin, signaling a return to broader, more automatic restoration efforts.
But the push for reform doesn’t end with the executive branch. There’s also a proposed constitutional amendment that would take the decision out of the governor’s hands altogether. If approved, it would automatically restore voting rights to individuals once they have completed their sentences. For the amendment to reach voters on the November 2026 ballot, it must pass the General Assembly in two consecutive legislative sessions. The Democratic-led legislature has already passed the measure once, and after recent gains in the House of Delegates, it’s widely expected to pass again in the next session.
Supporters say that both the legal and legislative efforts could finally bring Virginia in line with most of the country, where individuals with felony convictions regain their voting rights after serving their sentences. "Both of these efforts can work together to really make a big dent, hopefully this coming year, make really an enormous dent in felony disenfranchisement in Virginia, and hopefully this becomes a relic of the past," Agraharkar told NPR.
As the legal challenge moves forward and the political winds shift, the stakes are high—not just for Tati King, but for hundreds of thousands of Virginians who have paid their debt to society yet remain excluded from the democratic process. The debate over felon disenfranchisement touches on deeper questions about justice, redemption, and the meaning of citizenship. For King, it’s about setting an example for the next generation. For advocates and lawmakers, it’s about addressing a legacy of systemic exclusion that continues to shape the state’s political landscape.
With the potential for sweeping change on the horizon, all eyes are on Virginia as it grapples with the question of who gets to have a say in its future. Whether through the courts, the legislature, or the governor’s office, the outcome will reverberate far beyond the Commonwealth, offering a glimpse into the evolving face of American democracy.
