Hey, Daily Kos friends. I know it’s been a while, but at last, I’ve emerged. What a rollercoaster the last few months have been. I haven’t spent much time on Daily Kos since I left to take the field organizing job in Ohio in late August. I can honestly say that during the campaign, my lack of engagement here was because I was genuinely too busy. Between wrangling volunteers, registering voters, making calls, running phone banks, canvassing, conference calls, driving all over Hell’s Half Acre, and doing whatever else needed to be done, I barely had time to sleep, much less engage in thoughtful DKos commentary:-) After it was all said and done on November 9, I was just too sad and exhausted. At this point though, I’m ready to re-engage with the Village Under the Bus...I’ve really missed you guys, and I hope everyone is as okay as can be expected given the circumstances. So, consider this an update, even if a rather long one, on where I’ve been, what I’m doing now, and for what it’s worth, where I see things going from here.
On Post-Election Grief
To get it out of the way up front, I am not going to lie and pretend it’s all better and I have totally moved on (really, has anyone?). I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that, as a queer person and as someone who cares deeply about civil rights for all minority groups, watching the events unfold the evening of November 8 was an absolute gut punch. Maybe it would have been easier in a way if we’d seen it coming (and don’t you DARE come at me any of that 20/20 hindsight “should have” nonsense that’s been dominating certain hot takes lately, ESPECIALLY if you weren’t out there in the field busting your chops day in and day out to make sure the Nazi Cheeto wasn’t elected. Seriously, just don’t). Regardless I’ll never forget that sinking feeling as Florida turned red, then North Carolina, then gradually all the rest of them. The feeling of fear and panic shooting down my arms as it finally became clear that the Orange Menace was really going to be PEOTUS. Thanks to going into a complete state of shock at that point, I managed to get myself from the field office back to the house where I was staying that night, and literally the only thought I had before climbing into bed was how I needed to get out of my wet shoes and socks--it had rained the entire last half of the day when I was out canvassing and my feet were cold, sore, and completely soaked.
The shock wore off the morning of November 9th, though, and from there, the day unfolded into probably one of the saddest days of my life. I arrived back at the office with my fellow staffers, and all we could do was group hug and cry. A few of our most dedicated volunteers also came by, weepy and just as broken-hearted as we organizers were. The final blow was that evening, when I received the devastating news that one of my best volunteers, who ran one of my phone banks and did literally everything I asked of her during GOTV and more, had died the evening before in a freak accident (unrelated to campaigning). The overwhelming sense of loss I felt by that point was staggering: loss of an election I cared so deeply about, loss of idealism, loss of my confidence in my fellow Americans to do the right thing, loss of my sense of safety in my own country, all topped off by the loss of a member of my own “campaign family”... I am not a weepy person by nature, and can probably count on one hand the number of occasions that have brought me to my knees sobbing, but that’s exactly where I ended up by the end of that awful day.
Since then, the challenge has been getting back up, which I have managed to do with varying degrees of success depending on the day. The stages of grief are still incredibly, intensely real. My appetite remains barely existent most days, as does my energy for things like cooking anything more complicated than nachos (though to be fair, nachos are delicious, and I think salsa can definitely count as a vegetable). I still can’t sleep through the night or fall asleep easily, and if I do (or come close) I have some election-related or apocalyptic dream/nightmare. I don’t know when I’m going to be able to make it more than 3 or 4 days at a time without bursting into tears at something...and that’s been my record. Typically it’s photos or videos from the campaign trail that really get me, but it could be any number of things. A campaign song on the radio. Talking about how much working on this campaign meant to me. Thinking about how great a president Hillary would have been. Realizing what percentage of the country really is comprised of racist, misogynistic, homophobic jerks who were a-ok with voting for a serial rapist for president. It all just depends. But when the grief hits, it feels like November 9 all over again and all of the despair and heartbreak I felt that day comes rushing back in a suffocating wave. Sometimes it's not even tears, but a sense of blind, white-hot rage that hits, where I truly feel capable of punching non-voters, third party voters, or Trump voters in the throat, or flipping a table at them (not that I actually would, for the record...). I am told that all of this is quite normal, so rest assured that if you are still feeling pretty traumatized and upset about what has happened, you aren’t alone and your feelings are very valid...don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
Rebuilding
Despite working through the stages of grief, though, in a lot of ways, I have still managed to get on with my life. I’m back at a job that I like--by complete dumb luck, the position I left to work on the campaign opened up again at just the right time. To be honest, I probably would have come back regardless of the outcome, since I missed Chicago so much and the job itself is really pretty decent. Especially with the election turning out the way it did though, I’m very grateful to be surrounded by supportive people with generally good politics, both at work and in the city as a whole. It’s a nice distraction from waking up every day with the Nazi Cheeto still as PEOTUS, at any rate. For now, I have also channeled my political energies into working with some local reproductive rights groups, which I think will serve as a useful way to get involved with my pet cause, as the incoming administration seeks to dismantle these rights in an alarming fashion. So, solid steps forward.
At the end of the day, though, I will always be proud of the work that I did on this campaign and proud of the work that my volunteers did. It is an experience that will stay with me forever. While it sucks that things turned out this way, I know in my bones that I stood on the right side of history and did everything I personally could have to keep the fascist out of office. As I’ve told everyone who’s asked, even knowing the outcome, I would do it all over again, because in the midst of the awfulness that this election was, I got to see the best of America, maybe even the best of humanity. Everyone I worked with deeply understood the stakes of this election. I worked with volunteers who traveled across the country on their own dime in both ‘08 and ‘16 for Hillary’s campaign. Some of my volunteers in OH had been canvassing since Mondale, and even though it would have been easy enough for them to say, “Nope! It’s someone else’s turn!” they still were out there knocking on doors every week in the hopes of saving progress and indeed the country. There was the couple in their late 50s/early 60s who had never worked on a campaign before this one, but came out to canvass every weekend and phone bank every week. I also had my Campaign Fellow, a college student who basically ended up being my right hand and who took time off from school to canvass during GOTV. There was my volunteer leadership team, who made me so proud when they rose to the occasion of GOTV, running things so smoothly that I really didn’t have to worry about it. On top of all that, I had a volunteer who literally spent the last day of her life canvassing. And of course there were the other organizers, all of whom had dropped everything--school, jobs, prior plans--to work full-time on the campaign. Seriously, if you ever meet an organizer from the Hillary ‘16 campaign, especially one who was on for the entire duration, hug them and/or buy them a drink immediately. These guys really gave it their all, and I have no idea how they got by on so little sleep for as long as they did.
The most heartening part is that after the election, I was so afraid that people would give up, especially the ones who had sunk so much time and resources into the campaign only to have it go up in flames at the end. That isn’t what I’ve seen at all, though. Every single person I met on the campaign who I talked to in the aftermath of the election has stated unequivocally that they are staying in the arena and they are going to keep fighting and resisting the incoming administration every step of the way. No one is giving up. That said, a few have asked me what I would recommend as best “next steps,” so for what it’s worth, as a former field organizer, here is how I have generally been responding to that inquiry, in order of priority:
- So many things are going to be under attack that it's going to be impossible to work for every worthwhile cause, so realize that first and foremost. If you try to do it all, you will burn yourself out before we even get through 2017.
- Regarding burnout, take care of your physical, mental, and spiritual well-being, and also look out for the people "in the trenches" with you. It's hard to change the world if you're too beaten down to get out of bed, and as Audre Lorde said, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
- All that said, pick the cause that is nearest and dearest to you, the thing you would throw yourself in front of a bus for, and get involved with a well-established organization that works for said cause (e.g., NARAL or Planned Parenthood if your cause is reproductive rights). Throw yourself into it wholeheartedly. No individual can save the world by his or herself, but if we all take a small corner and work to make it better, we can start to move forward again.
Friends, it’s great to be back with you. Onward we go!
Background: This song basically WAS my GOTV playlist...I had it playing on repeat in the car on Election Day as I drove between neighborhoods. I still can’t listen to it without waterworks, especially since in retrospect, the pairing of Fight Song and Amazing Grace (which is one of my standards when I play funerals) is so poetically perfect for how 2016 turned out. At the same time, the pairing of the two songs also says to me that despite our grief, we will rise again, and we will keep fighting!