It’s well known that the absolute worst part of campaigning is having to spend endless hours on the phone and at fundraisers, asking people to part with their money. Except when it isn’t.
I’ve been calling through my “life list” and talking to people who were part of my life decades ago. And even if they are out of work, or artists who barely have two nickels to rub together, or in jobs where they aren’t allowed to take political action, they have been kind and enthusiastic and have given me the moral support to keep going. Many of those who have resources have also gladly made generous contributions. Tomorrow, my high school classmates are holding a fundraiser for me near our old stomping grounds -- and I’m running in a different state.
The support I’m encountering is beautiful to see. Everywhere, Americans who are horrified by the state of our democracy are actively grateful to those of us who have stepped forward to run. Today, a talented and successful musician I knew in college offered to play a benefit for me. A high school friend who is now a highly respected judge invited me to visit and assured me that she knew I would win. Someone I worked with for just one year, 35 years ago, offered me her lovely apartment in NYC whenever I need to stay there.
It seems the height of presumptuousness to call people after 30 or 40 years and ask them for money the first time you reconnect. But not one person has said, “How dare you?” They are truly glad to be back in touch, and so am I. Who knew campaign fundraising would be the key to debunking forever that sneaking suspicion that I was the unpopular kid in school?
Let me be clear: I abhor our terrible campaign finance system, which puts such an emphasis on a candidate’s proximity to money. Public financing of campaigns is a key part of my platform. I recognize that my life of privilege has given me access to a network of people who can spare $100, $200, even occasionally $1000 for a first-time candidate’s challenge to a long-time incumbent, while those who came up in other circumstances could scarcely dream of running a campaign like this. And I hate the fact that my job as a candidate is to schmooze with the people who have, rather than spending time listening to the people with real needs.
But I also want to pause and feel the deep gratitude for the open-handed generosity that this whole process has, surprisingly, brought into my life. I suspect that thousands of candidates all around the country are feeling it too, in this extraordinary moment of national political awakening.