Category Archives: Political

One Conversation at a Time

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Phone banking can be tedious: Hang ups, wrong numbers, people who are angry because they’re inundated with calls.

There are also plenty of people who affirm they’re voting the way you hope they are, or need a bit of help with voting information, or thank you for your work despite the fact that they’re inundated.

Then there are the nuggets that make it all worthwhile. The other day, the father of the woman I was trying to reach in Pennsylvania said she was at work, but could he help? I said I was a volunteer calling about the presidential election. He replied, “I am a 67-year-old lifelong Republican who is voting for Kamala Harris and other Democrats all the way down the ticket.” His immediate family of five—a mix from both parties—were all voting the same way.

Last week I spoke with a woman I’ll call Kay in Wisconsin who told me that she and her husband had decided not to vote this year. When I asked her to tell me more, it was clear how overwhelmed she felt, not knowing who or what to believe. It just felt easier and wiser to lay low and sit this one out.

Immigration was one of Kay’s top concerns. She didn’t like that so many resources were going to immigrants. “It’s a complicated issue,” I said, mentioning that Kamala Harris would sign the border bill that Trump had torpedoed. Did she have any personal experience with immigrants in her community. No—she’d just read about it. Kay also mentioned that she was unhappy about the Dobbs decision.

Kay had watched the debate, and thought that Trump was a liar and Kamala was great. I noted that what disturbed me most was how Trump constantly sowed chaos and division. Our conversation then turned to Springfield, Ohio; we agreed that Trump’s and Vance’s lies about pet-eating Haitians had brought harm to the city’s immigrant and native residents alike. We talked about lots of things, including our fondness for President Obama.

Still, Kay seemed discouraged. “Does voting matter?” she asked. “Do they even count the votes?” Yes and yes. Especially in Wisconsin!

“If you were to vote,” I asked, “Who would you vote for?”

“Oh, Kamala!” Kay replied without hesitation. So would her husband.

I said, “It breaks my heart that you feel like your voice doesn’t matter, and that you’re voluntarily letting louder people drown it out.” Kay took this in. I told her how moved I was by our conversation, that it would stay with me long after we finished talking, and I hoped she felt the same way.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Kay said. “Thank you for helping me see the light.”

I do not know for sure if Kay and her husband will vote this year. But I do know that this conversation mattered, and that tens of thousands of us are making these connections, unearthing these nuggets, turning non-voters into voters every day.

Happy Birthday, Mom(ala)

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My mother and Kamala Harris share a birthday. Kamala turns 60 today, and my mother would be 101 had she not died in 1995. (No Jimmy-Carter-like hanging on to cast a vote for her, alas!)

I think of my mother a lot, and especially during momentous political times. How she would have loved to mark her ballot for Kamala! On the other hand, the prospect of Trump as president once, let alone possibly twice, would have killed my mother. Although she died far too young, I am grateful she was spared having to live in an America with him as cause and symptom. Still, I wish she were here to guide me through these times.

I think back to 1972, when I was a senior in high school and highly aware of the presidential election for the first time. I found it impossible to believe that anyone could vote for Richard Nixon, and fervently believed that George McGovern would win. Did my mother share the same delusion? Or simply not want to disturb my beautiful, naive idealism? Was she as crushed as I was? How did she keep on going? Because I know she did. We all did. Less than two years later, we broke open the champagne when Nixon was forced to resign.

I miss my beautiful, naive idealism, and I miss my mother, but of course I’ve kept on going, too. I would like to put champagne in the fridge to celebrate Kamala’s victory. I find it impossible to believe that anyone could vote for Donald Trump. But the traumas of 2016 and the MAGA-fication of the Republican Party have taught me otherwise.

Still, I am cautiously optimistic. Not delusional, but hopeful. I would love to compare notes with my mother about keeping the faith through dire times. I would love for both of us to be able to bask together in the joy and fortitude that Kamala exemplifies, to celebrate her victory.

Happy Birthday, Mom. Wish you were here, though I’m glad you are not. I will work and vote with all my heart for Kamala in honor of you.

And thank you, Kamala. Happy Birthday to you, too!

Election Countdown

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Soon after Joe Biden was declared the winner in November 2020, my husband said, “I thought we’d at least get a mental health break, but I guess not.” Trump and his allies, who’d sowed chaos and seeds of doubt about fair elections long before any votes were cast, wasted no time in spreading the Big Lie and passing lots of laws to make voting harder in swing states. Although personally and even sometimes politically we’ve had many bright spots in the last four years—2 weddings, no funerals, and no red wave in 2022!—it’s been quite a psychological slog.

My mental health improved greatly on July 21, the day President Biden announced he was stepping aside and endorsing Kamala Harris to take his place as the 2024 nominee. Before then, and especially after his disastrous debate performance, I had pretty much felt on a glide path to doom. “At least there won’t be another insurrection,” I consoled myself at the thought of Trump’s re-election.

With the coming of Kamala, hope and joy returned, along with a fighting chance. I have reveled in cat memes, rising poll numbers, a pitch-perfect convention, Taylor Swift’s endorsement, Michelle Obama, Tim Walz, Doug Emhoff, and all the Every-Identity-Group-Under-the-Sun-for-Kamala fundraisers. And whose mood didn’t improve watching an unraveling Donald Trump swallow the bait every single time in their September 10 debate?

And yet, here we are at essentially a coin toss. I feel cautiously optimistic, and also increasingly anxious. It all depends on the day’s vibes, my wish-casting, whether a new Times/Siena poll has dropped, and the number of undecided people who complain that they still don’t know enough about Kamala Harris’s plans, which I fear is a way of saying There’s no way I’ll vote for a Black woman. I feel good about reports of Harris-Walz signs in deep red towns, somebody’s ancient, rock-ribbed Republican uncle voting for Kamala. Then, on a phone bank to Michigan, a guy answers, “Are you planning to vote for Harris or Trump?” with “I would not piss on her if she were on fire. Have a good day!” At least he was polite.

So I’m pretty anxious, but living by the axiom, “Do more, worry less.” I volunteer a lot for Airlift, which raises money to support grassroots groups who excel at turning non-voters into voters in battleground states. I know a lot of people who are responding to Michelle Obama’s call to “Do Something.”

We’re doing what we can for our future. And for our mental health. Let’s bring it home in the next 35 days.

Paper of Record

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My husband and I just watched She Said, the film based on New York Times reporters Megan Twohey’s and Jodi Kantor’s investigation that brought down Harvey Weinstein and turbocharged the #MeToo Movement. We happened to see it on the same day that we’d contemplated canceling our Times subscription at least three times.

The first came when I listened to The Daily’s podcast coverage of the recent discovery of Joe Biden’s classified documents in all the wrong places. The sequel to the 2016 smash hit, “Oh, But Her Emails!,” “Documents!” is part of the breathless reporting that is one-tenth spelling out the differences between Biden’s and Trump’s behavior and nine-tenths implying nefarious intent with far, far more disturbing revelations to come. I suppose the one-tenth part counts among the Lessons Learned by responsible journalists whose hyperbolic coverage of the drip-drip-drip of Hillary’s misused server surely contributed to the mess we’re in now. Unfortunately, the greater Lesson Learned about stoking conflict to gain eyeballs, plus a misguided allegiance to “Fair and Balanced,” still triumphs. At least when Fox touted the “F&B” tagline, they knew it was ironic.

Later that day, I moved onto the Times Opinion section, only to be confronted with a column by Kellyanne Conway, Trump’s notorious campaign manager, counselor, and coiner of “alternative facts.” Why the Times would give over precious inches to a known liar and political hack was beyond me, though I shouldn’t have been surprised since that’s a fair description of what has happened to our political discourse in general over the last many years. But I would not let Kellyanne off the hook: “How’s your marriage? And your daughter?” I unkindly asked her in my mind.

As I complained to my husband about these journalistic outrages over lunch, he added a third reason to quit the Times: “They’re going after us because we both use the same log-in to read the paper. I’ve explained that we’re in the same household, but they say ‘It’s just one user per subscription.’”

That evening, which was Takeout and Movie Night, we streamed She Said. It’s a good, though not great, movie, and one well worth seeing for the importance of the story alone. And also for the décor of the New York Times: chic red walls, bright and airy workspaces, a stunning cafeteria with floor to ceiling windows.

But the aesthetics are nothing compared to the paper’s unlimited resources, including sending the intrepid reporters overnight to London. Given that no expense was spared, I couldn’t help but wonder why the Times never sprang for a couple sets of Bluetooth headphones so the reporters were not constantly on speaker phone as they walked down streets or made dinner while passersby, husbands, and kids freely listened in. (Then I realized that this was a cinematic device designed to allow the audience to hear all, not half, of the conversations with vital sources. Duh!)

Best of all was the unstinting support of everyone at the Times. While poor Ronan Farrow had to go, beggar-like, to the New Yorker, after NBC News squelched his simultaneously exploding bombshell investigation, Twohey and Kantor had a whole army of senior staff behind them. Their editor, Rebecca Corbett, not only dispensed hugs, keen advice, and chocolate almonds freely throughout; she also knew that the pursuit of a good story could cure post-partum depression. Executive Editor Dean Baquet personally and hilariously ran interference with Harvey Weinstein himself. In contrast to the workplace Weinstein turned into a house of horrors, the New York Times came off as the best employer in the world. It was hard to even recall that just last month, labor unrest roiled the Times, and those sympathetic to the workers were encouraged to eschew their Wordle addiction for the day in solidarity.

Still, the Times did good, does good, and no doubt will continue to do good, especially if they ever get over their fetish for interviewing MAGA enthusiasts in diners. We’re likely never to quit them (of course, they may boot us off first if we continue to share one subscription in our household of two). In honor of this exasperating, brilliant paper of record, I even played Wordle for the first time ever yesterday.

As for Weinstein? Well, RIP Harvey–rot in prison.

Midterm Musings

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“The red wave is the ketchup dripping down the walls of Mar-a-Lago.” – From a Facebook Friend, 11/9/22

This is my favorite take on the 2022 midterms.

I also like the results, except for this bummer: More than a week after the election, the Republicans finally secured their 218th seat to win the House majority. Good luck with that, Kevin! Watch out for the ketchup stains on your trouser cuffs. Or maybe it’s blood from your backstabbing caucus.

Except for losing the House by a hair thanks to gerrymandering and New York’s apparent new status as a swing state, it was a good night for Democrats and their pro-choice, pro-democracy, anti-lunatic allies. Yes, of course, we had an assist from the Supreme Court and Donald Trump. Yes, of course, we still face enormous peril. But it’s time to break our doom and gloom habits even while remaining clear-eyed. This is a moment to celebrate. I’m reminded of the famous headline following the 1968 Harvard-Yale football game, in which Harvard, trailing by 16 points, evened up the score in the last 42 seconds:

“Harvard Beats Yale, 29-29”

Given the momentum and the fact that who controls the Senate is no longer an issue, the chances of breaking the 50-50 tie there by re-electing Senator Raphael Warnock in Georgia’s December 6 run-off are good. Go Warnock! If you’re looking for a way to support grassroots groups on the ground ready to turn out every last vote for him, check out Airlift’s portal to the Georgia Alliance for Progress.

Of course, the House isn’t quite tied, and my wish that it could all have been favorably decided by Lauren Boebert going down is not to be. Still, I don’t think endless investigations of Hunter Biden will prove a winning case for Republican governance.

A lot of my political activism these days has been with the aforementioned Airlift, an all-volunteer group founded in my home county of Marin in Northern California after the 2016 election. Airlift raises money for progressive grassroots groups who excel in turning non-voters into voters through year-round organizing in key battleground regions. We do the research to make sure donors who are bombarded by a million asks can be sure that they’re getting the best bang for their buck.

I’m pretty busy putting out Airlift’s monthly newsletter and liaising with our two partner groups in North Carolina, so I haven’t done as much phone banking this cycle. Still, during the last couple of weeks, I put in some time calling voters in North Carolina, Arizona, and Nevada.

Mostly phone banking consists of lots of “Not Homes,” hang-ups, and wondering when I myself last answered the phone from an unknown caller. Still, there are some good conversations along the way that make it all worthwhile. I spoke to a woman in North Carolina who wasn’t planning to vote because she’s too busy for politics and didn’t even know the election was a week away. After ascertaining that she didn’t like the overturn of Roe or what the Republicans were doing, I convinced her to vote, and we made a plan for her to go to an early voting center before work the next day. .  

Another woman in North Carolina said, “We’ve got to stop the hate.” Someone else told me, “I don’t believe the polls. The women are with her [Cheri Beasley].” Sadly, they weren’t quite sufficiently with Cheri in North Carolina. But they did prevent the return of a GOP supermajority in the state legislature, thus preserving Governor Cooper’s veto power over further abortion restrictions and other right-wing legislation.  Pro-choice swing-state women–and men–were most everywhere else.

In Arizona, a woman said she used to be a Republican, but is no longer because “now they’re just peddling lies.” She confided that she’s lost friendships over it, and it breaks her heart.

Responding to my asking if we could count on his support for Mark Kelly, an Arizona man replied, “I would rather vote for a week-old tuna sandwich than for any Republican.”

Sometimes phone banking is cause for full-on belly laughs.

Speaking of which, here’s a hilarious note to close out my 2022 Midterm Report:

The Other Anniversary

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“And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.”

– Amanda Gorman, 2021 Inaugural Poem, The Hill We Climb

Think back to a year ago. No, not the insurrection, but the day before. On January 5th, both Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff won their Georgia run-offs, turning the U.S. Senate the palest – but still lovely! – shade of blue. Honestly, to most of us, the likelihood of not just one but both of these men prevailing seemed preposterous. But we opened our checkbooks, rolled up our sleeves, and got to work anyway. Their victories felt miraculous.

But of course it wasn’t a miracle at all. It was the determination, hard work, and generosity of everyone – doubtful and hopeful alike – who stepped up. Led by primarily Black grassroots organizers whose persistent movement building had just put the state in Biden’s column, legions of activists and volunteers knocked on doors, registered new voters, phone banked, wrote letters and postcards, texted, and donated hundreds of millions of dollars.

As a result, Democratic turnout, especially in counties with a large share of Black voters, smashed records. As Nse Ufot, head of the New Georgia Project said at the time, “The margins are so small that every action, including your vote, matters and will make a difference. Black voters got that message. Black voters recognized that we need to complete the task.”

Now we turn to the task of securing a better and more progressive future in 2022, “striving,” as Amanda Gorman reminds us, “to form our union with purpose.“

The hill we must climb in 2022 is indeed steep. Yet we’ve done it before and we’ll do it again. In the spirit of January 5, 2021, and of the poet, we greet the New Year with purpose and resolve.

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I wrote this for the January issue of “The Drop,” a newsletter I produce for Airlift, an all-volunteer group near and dear to my heart. Airlift raises money for progressive grassroots organizations in key areas throughout the country. The groups we fund excel at turning non-voters into voters, especially in communities of color, women, and young people–exactly the groups who made all the difference in the 2020 election, and will do so again in 2022.