I was scared and that scared would later turn into something between terrified and thrilled. . . As you do when you try something new and you have no idea how to do it.
And that is how I started my very first caucusing adventure. Afraid but excited.
Luckily, I had Lars and Ciara with me. Ciara, the brand new citizen THIS YEAR, doing her first civic duty in a country she has lived in a good chunk of her life; excited, too. Lars, the encyclopedia of knowledge on this process as an employee of the Washington state government and an official campaigner for Hillary Clinton; determined to do this process despite it’s serious flaws because HOW CAN YOU NOT this year!
I’ve voted in general elections, reading candidate and legislation statements, reading articles on both sides, asking my friends about their opinions and then dutifully filling out my paper ballot and sending it in on time - most of the time.
But this year seemed very different. For some reason, I started to understand so much more about how weird our election process is. I started to realize there is a possibility that someone like Donald Trump could be in charge of selecting individuals that could take away my rights and my friends’ rights and could influence others to hate me and my friends and family, making it dangerous for us to walk outside. I read articles before about how our election process needs to change to be less chaotic, less prone to corruption and more democratic. . . But really, up until this year, left that to others to fight the good fight for me.
This year, I needed to start paying back all the people that paved the way for me to be able to do what I do and be who I am.
For example, the woman, at work, who is at least 20 years older than I. She intimidates me, is direct and displays a Rosie the Riveter poster on her cubicle wall. Is her approach my approach? No, but damn if I am not grateful for the fact that she paved the way for me to have a good job and be valued for my contributions rather than my gender.
So, when I went through a door on the inside of Town Hall, where our caucusing took place, I saw a man with the Hillary sticker and took one, to which he said, “All Right! Go Hillary!”
I’m going to admit, the moment I put it on my shirt and it was there for anyone to see, I got nervous. I didn’t want to be yelled at for not supporting Bernie. I know a lot of people in my community and I know they are enthusiastic supporters of Bernie and have talked about their dislike of Hillary’s record and representation of “the establishment.” It’s an opinion I understand and can, to some extent, agree with.
But instead of covering up my sticker or taking it off, after my initial anxiety attack, I decided I would put faith in the people I know in my community to be supportive of each other’s choices.
When we found our precinct, we went down the stairs and found a whole room full of people; hundreds of people. All the chairs were taken (and there were none left to be brought out)and there were people standing and sitting in the back where there was floor space. Ciara, Lars and I went to the back and sat on the floor talking about the process. Lars would tell us that the general process is a bit of shit show because of the lack of organization and haphazard way caucusing delivers results. And I do have to say, in hindsight, his comments were correct. And beginning to be confirmed, when the official district caucus organizer started speaking to tell us the process,when someone yelled out, “We need a primary!” People followed up this declaration with clapping, in support.
The process then went as follows:
(To help be as clear as I can, let’s call this district caucus organizer Brandon. I’m actually not sure what his name was and I feel terrible for forgetting, but I think it’s something like Brandon).
Brandon tells us he will call out precinct numbers, people should raise their hand, and, in a rule of closeness type of way, someone will hand you the handwritten sign with the precinct number on it and the packet that has instructions on caucusing. Then the person with the sign is to raise it up so it can be seen overhead. And then, “in a the most orderly fashion as can be done, go to your number so you can start to caucus.”
Six or seven precinct numbers are then announced and packets distributed, people try to, as orderly as they can, head to their numbers. Ciara and Lars migrate away from me. And then, they seemed to be done. BUT WAIT!!! My precinct hadn’t be called! Do I not get to vote? Is this right? I’d read articles about some shady things in caucuses and primaries that resulted in many votes not getting cast and people having no recourse since there aren’t any laws that give you the right to caucus if your government runs out of the administrative aids to run this process. So. . . I was worried I would actually become a statistic for voter disenfranchisement (wow . . . That’s a word. A great word.). And Lars isn’t anywhere to be asked. . . And I hope something will happen so I can caucus.
Luckily, Brandon then said, “if you are from precinct XXXX”, I’m your leader, so come up here and we’ll get started shortly.” Whew. . . I wouldn’t be disenfranchised this year!
I moved towards the stage and there were so many people around the stage that I sort of hung out a minute or two, not knowing what to do since nothing seemed to be happening. So I turned to my right and looked up at a tall man with a few Hillary stickers on his shirt and asked, “are you XXXX precinct?” He replied by repeating our number. And we made a pact to stick together to get to the right place. My anxiety started to lift because now I had an ally and a friend in the process. Not only was he unsure about what to do next, he was a Hillary supporter, so at least there would be two of us.
Brandon started to tell his precinct to come up on stage and then one of us in our precinct pushed the curtains back, revealing a small side stage with a small platform, an actor block and some technical equipment for a stage. We all migrated back there and I saw Liz, my neighbor and friend and stuck by her. We moved into the back of the side stage and sat down on the platform together. My tall Hillary ally was across the room from me. Liz and I started to catch up and we exchanged the “I still love you even though you are for
.” Because we do. And because our friendship is more than the political candidate we choose. And because we trust each other. Plus she is fucking cool, I can’t not love her.
Brandon started to read off the sheets in the packet and when asked for a volunteer tallier, a man named Roy raised his hand and said, “I’ll do it.” We all applauded him because YAY for volunteering to make the process happen. Brandon quickly explained to us that we needed to count Hillary supporters, Bernie supporters and undecideds. Someone said, “Let’s just go to sides of the room for our candidates.” And someone else yelled, “Bernie supporters over here.” That was the side I was sitting on, so I got up and moved to the other side. Someone yelled, “Undecideds on the end, over here.” It was close to the onstage part of the stage. When everyone stopped moving, it was me and my Tall Hillary friend from earlier on one side, 3 Undecideds on the end. . . And then everyone else which will eventually turn out to be like 25X more than Hillary supporters.
So here’s where I feel more scared. It’s hard to be in the minority for anything when emotions are high and investment is deep on both sides. And to be worried that, because you had read one or two articles about nasty comments to each other, you would be reviled for your choice. But I believed in where I was and had faith that we’d all hear each other out if it came to needing to do that. My belief and faith in other people won over my fear.
But it’s time to actually count. And to be fair, it was easy to count the Hillary and Undecideds. . . But we needed to record the official record of Bernie supporters so we can determine how many delegates our precinct will have. And it’s clear this isn’t going to be as super easy as someone looking over our heads and counting in their head. I have no idea what had gotten into me, but I stand up and get on the small actor block and I say, in my most loud stage managery voice, “Ok, I’m going to count you!”
Then I proceed to count about 44ish or more people.
Our tallier writes all of this down, Brandon hands him the absentee package and Roy tallies those into our total. He does some math and we learn that based on our numbers, we will get 4 delegates for Bernie, no delegates for Hillary. My Tall Hillary ally asks how many people Hillary would need to get to get a delegate. Roy tells us between 4-6 people. In my head, I realized we would not be able to convince all three undecideds and at least 1-3 Bernie supporters to come to Hillary’s side, so I felt sad my duty is pretty much done. But I wanted to stay for the next part. I wanted to see if the Bernie supporters and frankly, me and Tall Hillary ally would feel compelled to talk about our candidates.
I was scared because I know I am terrible at remembering facts and figures and, while I read a lot, and feel pretty intelligent, when it’s a high stress situation, I am apt to forget my supporting evidence and look like an idiot. And I didn’t want to be judged for my poor performance. I also decided for any next year I do this, I am definitely going to have to practice a speech for my beliefs so that I can engage in rational discourse. . . But alas, you live and learn.
Brandon then told us that we could speak for 3 minutes a person on our candidates, it would be timed by Brandon’s stop watch and an end indicated by wild flailing. A gentleman on the Bernie side started. It was clear, concise, passionate, and well delivered. Everyone clapped.
At this point, my heart is in my stomach and my anxiety, which usually only resides in the middle of my upper chest and is only about a fist size large, is now all over my arms, abdomen and back. I am vibrating with fear but excitement, too.
But then a few new people show up and we need to count them. We need to put them in the right category. And all but one of them supports Bernie. So now it’s three of us.
As I vibrate and feel like my insides are actually going to explode, I get back up on the block and say, “I’d like to tell you why I am voting for Hillary. It’s very personal to me.”
I’d attempt to quote myself, but, when I perform, I often blank out the experience of it happening while I’m in front of people speaking. I feel confident enough in my message that apparently my brain blocks out an exact replay of it in my mind, only the feeling is left for me. So, instead of quoting, I will give you the cliff note version. I also know that because I’ve had time to reflect, my arugment will be more clear/well delivered than it actually was - please keep that in mind as it is a lens though which you will have to consider my experience.
I’ve been experiencing a lot of sexism my whole life. Most of my life I have just accepted it, maybe didn’t even know that was what the behavior even was. But recently I have had my eyes opened to the way in which I am treated and it is clearly rooted in my gender. As it turns out, I care about how I am treated. And it is true how much I have had to do to change to fit into a world that was created by the other gender. I have been told I am emotional, dramatic, that I dig for the drama. I have had to try to be liked, yet strong where people would call me confident rather than bitchy, pushy, or bossy. I have been watching the debates and how the discussion is around Hillary’s likeability and these types of characterizations are being used to discredit her. I’ve seen the way she is treated and that treatment has required her to change herself to fit into a process created by men. And she’s succeeded. Do I want to vote for her just because she is a woman? No. I don’t. Do I agree with everything she’s done? No. I do believe she is qualified. Do I think what Bernie stands for is great? I do. Hillary has paved the way for me and I am here today to pave the way for her.
There were people nodding at the end and then they all clapped.
It felt supportive. These strangers confirmed my faith in each other as a community. They listened to me and supported my choice even though it wasn’t theirs.
Then a woman raised her hand, from the Bernie side, and she started to speak. She talked about how last year she became a citizen because she could no longer stand by and allow the to establishment to continue on it’s path. That Bernie is the only candidate that makes sense for her based on her experience. She shared that she carries a shame of having voted for Margaret Thatcher because “I was a girl, and she was, too.” There were some audible gasps at her admission of a Thatcher vote. But what bravery to own something she considers a mistake and talk about how that informs her choices today.
It reminded me of the one time I voted republican. . . And how naive I was back then. Yes, I voted for George W. Bush against Al Gore. I was 25, living in rural Wisconsin on a farm where I listened to mostly country music and drank beer and had bonfires. I really liked my life and the people around me informed me of political things. It was before regular internet use, smart phones, and I was in my twenties still thinking I was invincible and didn’t know there were things other than what I knew.
My state went blue that year, so my mistake was corrected by those wiser than I. I am grateful for that even though I still have guilt about it.
Back to the woman finishing her speech about why she is voting for Bernie. Everyone claps and then my Tall Hillary ally gets up on the actor block and bravely says his name is Chris. He then tells the story of why he is voting for Hillary and it is beautiful. He was in the Peace Corps and his work was in Morocco, where he could not acknowledge or look upon the women who were his students, outside of school in the neighborhood streets. And during his service, Hillary came to Morocco and spoke to these girls and women. These young women later came to ask him, in the safety of their classroom, “how do you come from a country where this is possible? Can it be possible for me?” He told how these women were grateful to meet a woman who had gotten beyond the external limits they face every day. She was an inspiration and a motivation for them. And that’s why Chris, my Tall Hillary ally, is voting for Hillary. He was impassioned as he delivered this message. I was moved. Everyone clapped for him.
Another gentleman spoke about his passion for Bernie and his ideals. And we closed with a young single mother who feels that Bernie is the only person that cares about her. And his policies will help her and her family. And that’s why she voting for Bernie. Everyone claps for everyone.
A few more people come on the side stage and we tell Roy he needs to add a few more numbers. At this point, we decide we just need to count again. I don’t immediately stand up to continue this duty because I’m still shaky from my declaration for Hillary. Brandon looks at me and starts to say, “Would you mind. . . “ And I realize I have been nominated by my earlier courage. I almost literally POP up from my sitting and stand up on the actor block. I say in my loudest stage manager voice, “I’m going to count. “ After an initial attempt I lose track, we decide everyone will raise their hands and when I point to them, make eye contact and say a number, you will put your hand down. And we start again. This goes well until about 23 where I have to put my hand out to have one person put their hand down and another to put their arm up so I don’t lose track. We continue successfully until 43 where I am nervous and almost forget where I am. But the group has my back, and the gentleman I am trying to count says, “you are on 44, I am 44.” He also has his hand up showing me the number 4. There are murmurs of agreement, so I say, “44” with confidence and continue counting until the end, where the final number I utter is 52.
Roy is surprised because that seems lower than when we determined how many delegates we have, but it only takes a minute for us to remember the other number was higher because it included the mail in ballots. I see why this process is a bit of shit show and chaotic. . . But it’s also kind of exhilarating. I am out here with my neighbors talking about important things. Meeting new people. Creating relationships.
There is a few more tallying things Roy has to do and so there isn’t much talking. And so I turn to Brandon, thinking I understood enough of the process to know that because there were no Hillary delegates, my duty was done, and ask him, “what’s next?” He confirms my suspicion. I nod, hand him my ballot and said, “do you need anything else? Since I am no longer needed I think I’m out.” He smiles and says, “hey thanks for helping.” I am happy to do it and smile back, “of course.”
As I’m walking out, the new US Citizen who had confessed her Thatcher vote, grabs my arm and says, “thank you!” and I said, “no, thank you.” And she really stops me and says, “no, really,…” There is a very meaningful pause and then she continues, “thank you.” And I get the feeling she really does thank me. She is thanking me for standing up for me, for not tearing her down, for letting her talk, for being a human to another human even when we disagree on this. She was thanking me for taking part in the process even though I knew I wouldn’t get a delegate. It felt very safe - this thank you. It felt right. We respected each other’s choices.
It felt like all things we find different from us should be handled; with humility and compassion.
Leaving, towards the back of the group, I ran into my floor neighbor, Gus, of Gus and Erin fame (I love them!), and we exchanged, hellos and thank yous and good to see yous.
I exited the building and was met with the sun. I stopped at the bottom of the entrance stairs to Town Hall, closed my eyes, put my face up to the sun, took a deep breath and smelled the freshness of spring. The newness of it. The potential for it all. I crossed the street on my walk back home and watched people caucusing on the sidewalk, voting and speaking passionately about their candidates. I watched people take pictures of these people caucusing. I heard people yell, “45 Bernie, 32 Hillary.” And “4 Bernie delegates and 2 Hillary!!”
It was all refreshing and empowering to see my friends and neighbors caring about how our lives can be shaped by our government.
Later, as I’m walking to a local pub, Bill’s Off Broadway to meet back up with Lars and Ciara , where we are expecting to share our experiences, a group of three younger-than-I people yelled to me, “HI!” and I recognize them as Bernie supporters from my precinct. I smiled widely and waved and said, “Hey! How are you?” and one of them said, “oh my god, this is great, now I know all of my neighbors!”
It felt like community.
At Bill’s, Lars, Ciara, Gabe (he joined us later; he didn’t caucus but a public defender who always is participating in our government process), and I share our experiences with each other and drink beer and eat pizza and pepper Lars with questions about the process and the likelihood of a win by any of the candidates; Hillary, Bernie, Ted or Donald. We watch CNN as Washington state started reporting. We laugh about pirates and what they may have smelled like and how awful and smelly it would be to have been around George Washington and his wooden teeth.
We raised our glasses on several occasion' to celebrate our participation. We were happy in Ciara’s happiness to be able to participate in this type of thing for the very first time and how monumental it all felt to her, and to all of us.
And then we walked home, talking about the Light Rail and how it has improved our lives and how we love it so much. And then we hugged each other and said good-bye. . . Knowing we’ll see each other soon.
It was a special day and I shared it with special people.
I started out afraid, but like it always does, the universe reminded me that taking a risk and trusting in your community. . . It’s worth it. It’s important.
