Hello from Chester County, Pennsylvania. We’ve been in the news a lot lately. Back in 2008, while working a full time job and putting in a good 30 hours a week on the Obama campaign, I understood our importance…and I said, often and with much conviction, “To win the presidency, McCain needs to win Pennsylvania. To do so, he needs to win the collar counties, especially Chester County. To win Chester County, he needs to win Tredyffrin, and he can’t do that without W-5. To do that, he needs to get past ME, and the little blonde girl says no. NO. HELL NO.”
In eight years, the demographics of the county have changed. The country has changed. But until last night, I didn’t realize how much **I** had changed. I’ve been canvassing for over 50 years, since I was a little kid. I’ve been working elections my whole life. Carried a lit basket for my uncle the candidate at the age of 3. I’ve talked, I’ve persuaded. I’ve won and I’ve failed. And I was never viscerally angry. Until yesterday.
The man in question embodied all that I look down on: someone who believes rumours but not facts. The folks who, when presented with historical proof, deny that those things happened. And I’m talking BIG THINGS, like a top tax rate of 90% under Eisenhower. Like the idea that people in the United States (not all, but some) knew about the camps in Germany in the ’30’s and tried to get America involved earlier. Like the fact that innocent black men are killed by police. You get the idea. So. Last night this guy is explaining that Hillary is a crook. And I asked what crime she was guilty of…and he couldn’t name one. I talked about Trump’s demagoguery, and ginning up the crowds, and he hadn’t seen it. His issues are income inequality and the need to undertake more domestic manufacturing, and he explained that Bernie Sanders was never for those things.
Here’s the bottom line: I got viscerally angry at him. Came home and couldn’t calm down. Made some local GOTV calls. Considered going over to my immigrant neighbors who are voting for Trump. (ME: “He’ll deport you”. HIM: “No he won’t. Trump good man.” HER: “My husband always right.”).
The man last night told me that what he hates most about “progressives like you is that you are intolerant of people’s opinions that don’t match your own. You don’t believe in free speech.” And in hindsight, that is the single thing that set me off. The thing that grabbed my gut, wrenched it, and perhaps I’ll never eat again.
It is not that I’m against free speech, I have always fought for it. It’s the fact that those “opinions” are based on utter trash. To support Trump, objectively, is to be misogynistic, racist, violent, homophobic, xenophobic and basically stupid. There’s no way around that conclusion. I looked at Romney, McCain, Bush, Dole and on and on and disagreed with their positions. But they were honest difference of opinion and approach. None of them wanted to destroy America. None wanted violence in the streets. None disrespected the rule of law, the importance of our electoral system, nor the bloodless transfer of power.
And around midnight, I’m in the bathroom under those makeup lights looking at my face in the mirror trying to understand how I have gotten so angry. I’m a pacifist vegetarian. I’m not structurally angry. But I realize that the culmination of the GOP’s hatred for non-whites, women, the disabled, children, etc. including the promise of obstructionism the night Obama was elected has so polarized the country that I picked a side. And my side says that America has problems we need to come together to solve. The other side wants to dismantle the country.
And so on Election Day, I will be working the polls for the county. Non-partisan, dedicated to making sure that everyone can vote. My job will be to walk the line when it’s long making sure people are registered in this precinct, and if not, getting them to the right place before they spend all that time on line. And I do that, or any other assigned task, with humility and joy because I believe in the process. I’ve been doing this for years. No problems. Then last night I was told that Pennsylvania is an open carry state. As all of you know, my weapons are the written word and a leaky green water pistol. But on November 8th, the little blonde girl will stand for truth and right, and VOTING. Please join me — VOTE. Bring five friends.
