Texting Voters: A Blue Wave Love Story

When Amy and I showed up a the Steelworkers’ Union Hall last Saturday for textbanking training, I started off crabby. We were a little late and missed part of the training. The coffee and donuts supply was already depleted and I couldn’t find a cup. I was super-aggravated not to get started right away, nostalgic for the feeling of being handed a good old-fashioned call sheet and getting to work. I waited grumpy-old-ladily for the lead volunteer to send me the link so that I could join the group on the Hustle app.

BUT THEN!!! I was in. Before I knew it, I’d texted FIFTY voters. Then another fifty! Whoa. They start you off with a pre-typed message, but I later figured out how to customize the canned messages, with all of the blue heart/rainbow/flag/Earth/blue wave emojis I wanted. AND!! It turns out that emoji-use DRAMATICALLY increases the odds that someone will text back—found a new superpower, who knew?!

There were still reasons to be grumpy, of course. As the women (As in 2016, the volunteers were mostly women, I’d say a 4:1 ratio of women to men, with room for the nonbinary, of course.) at our table mentioned the hostile messages they were getting, a middle-aged white guy was intrigued:

“Really?! I’m not getting that! I want to change mine to a woman’s name and see what happens!” He seemed curious and amused, rather than concerned LIKE A PERSON.

Maybe I should have just ignored him and let him try it. Maybe his texbank would have turned into an empathy machine. But he made my blood boil to the degree that this could’ve turned panic attack.

“I’m glad you can just OPT IN to my oppression. I’m glad it sounds fun.” I snapped, feeling like a party-ruiner.

“Well, I’m just a straight white guy, there’s not much I can do.”

            I said something like: “There’s a LOT you can do! You can listen and believe us, stand up for us instead of just being amused.”

            He backed down and I took lots of deep breaths to get to a good place and OH! The texts! The texts. I love them so much.

            This was the first time I was contacting ALL kinds of voters, not just active Democrats. When asked who they were voting for for governor and congress, many people responded with “TRUMP. MAGA.” Etc—we were supposed to just thank them for their time and mark them as Republican rather than arguing, and I MOSTLY followed that instruction. (It took me a little while to recognize the sweet gift that is the “Opt Out” option.) But I loved that I’d been a little ping in their day. Showing Up for Racial Justice (https://www.facebook.com/ShowingUpForRacialJusticesurj/) holds the idea that even when we can’t convince someone to fight white supremacy, we can still be an interruption in their worldview. I love when I have a chance to do that.

            (Of course, I don’t love being called c**t or stupid or crazy or hysterical, but those responses are few and far between.)

            But the BEST, of course, are the Democrats who write back, asking how to volunteer and sending all the blue heart emojis, asking about yard signs and organizing and telling me they’re already pledged to volunteer for Emily’s List. (A dude said this! Swoon!) We wish each other luck and the world feels warmer and more optimistic.

            I even, from time to time, step out of character and try polite disagreement. Then, okay, I step back into character and ask people when they’ll stand up for children who are already born.

            Now that I did the training, I can text voters anywhere, anytime between 9AM and 9PM. In my pajamas! Yesterday I wrote to 500 voters and only a handful were mean. With every try, I feel stronger and happier and more hopeful. Give it a try! <3 a="" href="https://act.padems.com/page/s/volunteer">https://act.padems.com/page/s/volunteer

            AND! When you’re on the receiving end of calls, some things to keep in mind:

Canvassing for Happiness

So it turns out that the world is a lot like it looks to my panic attacks. Everyone is jangled as the reality of Trump voters settles in. A small faction of Sanders supporters have decided it’s okay to throw dollar bills at the former Secretary of State and call her a whore. Campaign emails designed to fire us up to fight for good can bring out the worst in everyone, including me. Even my incredibly well-curated facebook feed can trick me into thinking I’m on a battleground. My heart has started doing this new beating-really-fast thing to signal when I’ve had enough.

But the part that seemed like it would be the hardest, the actual calling of strangers and knocking on doors, turns out to be the part that makes my heart feel most at ease. As soon as I get a phone list or a canvassing map in my hand, I feel like a new person, confident and purposeful. I’m still shy, and I still have to keep back tears on some topics, but I feel a sense of safety, a flow like I’m on the right track.

Before President Obama’s first campaign, it never would have occurred to me that I could do more for the process than vote. I don’t know how he convinced me that I was entitled to participate in his campaign, but he did, and I’ll never stop being grateful. Phone banking that fall was an easy job. Almost every call was a lovefest, and those phonebanks are some of my warmest memories, despite the raging toothache I had the whole time.

This time around, I thought the calling might be tougher. Before I managed to reweight its algorithm, my facebook feed could sometimes convince me that I and a handful of my pals were alone in a sea of Sanders-love. But the thing about real life is, it’s a safer place. Many people were happy and relieved to hear from us and almost all of those who were opposed were still kind and respectful.

Last weekend was my first time knocking on doors for a candidate, and it was the most perfect paradigm of a spring evening, complete with exuberant tulips and smell-of-happiness lilacs. A woman stopped us in the street and said “Oh! God bless you!” and signed up to volunteer on the spot. A couple of ladies wearing rainbow H buttons gave us an enthusiastic “Go Hillary!” (This happens to me daily even when I’m not canvassing, and it rules.) Neighbors of all categories said “yes” or “no” or “uncommitted” and I couldn’t help but geek out to myself (and also geek out to Amy) that! Democracy is amazing! And! These are our neighbors! And we’re not helpless! We can do something! I get extremely corny around election time and I’m totally not sorry.

The next day, when I went back to photograph all the flowers I’d longed after while canvassing, I felt even more at home here than I usually do. No matter the election’s outcome, having heard so many voices and looked into so many faces will make me a healthier and happier human being.

Since I left my church last year, I’ve had (with a few wonderful exceptions) trouble sustaining close friendships. The heart-space that had formerly been occupied with close chats and post-church brunches has often been filled by the little daily moments with strangers that give me a sense of hope and belonging. This election has made me rich with those moments. This year and beyond, I hope I have the strength to stop scrolling myself into Internet Brain Poisoning and keep finding joy in real life.