There must be a name or meme for this kind of thing, but today I’m recycling a comment I posted on someone else’s newsletter and calling it a blog post.
To be fair, my contribution was less of a comment, more of an essay. It was jotted down stream of consciousness, from the heart, in the moments before leaving to pick my kiddo up from school when I could/should have been following through on my commitment to meditate daily.
Also, its topic is particularly timely, so the other ideas I had in mind for this issue (e.g., Our Vow Renewal With LA, Why I’m Becoming A Coach Along With Everyone Else And Their Mother/Shaman, & Crafting A Mission, Vision, And Values For Yourself And/Or Your Company So You’re Not 110% Making Shit Up As You Go) will have to wait.
This comment-turned-newsletter-issue was prompted by the following question.
What helps you engage in electoral democracy while keeping your wits about you?
Whose mood-lifting, actionable, vent-worthy prompt was this? My former coworker at Teach For America (his music recs were as passionate as his belief in educational equity); recent guide on how to get white people (👋) to organize their friends, neighbors, and colleagues for racial justice and the collective good; and now friend and entrepreneur/writer inspo, Garrett Bucks’. I highly recommend his newsletter, The White Pages — it gets me fired up, introduces me to new info and ideas, makes me laugh out loud, is an exceptional example of meaningful community building, and ups the cool factor of my Spotify playlists.
With that, here’s what’s getting me through this election season:
Nostalgia/Family Tradition
My parents taught me that If I've got a right, it's my responsibility to use it. I remember standing in line with my Mom and Abba as they waited to cast their ballots...and lovingly but firmly being told by my father that we had to stand outside of his booth because it was also his right to keep his vote to himself! I think back to college-aged me organizing a Rock the Vote concert on campus and meeting Chingy backstage, which is all the reward I still ever need for exercising my political power.
Role Modeling
I've got a 3.5 yr old who I explained voting to yesterday morning for about 10 minutes, only to have her respond with, "But, why do we vote?" And the thing she likes the most about the "I Voted" sticker I put on the jammies she wore to school (PJ Day, best invention ever, saves at least 10 mins. of dawdling time in the morning) was that it was, in fact, just another sticker. So, we're still working on this engaged citizen/voting is your voice thing. But I want her to see me make the time to research the zillion candidates and propositions on the CA ballot instead of watching Netflix one night (one looooong night). I want her to see me filling in my ballot (we’re so freaking lucky to have early voting by mail here), double checking my perfect little black circles. I want her to drop the ballot in the box outside of our library for me and feel the literal and figurative weight of that act. I want her to be hopeful, to not give up, to build ritual, to participate.
Donating
This is partially about hoping my dollars are making a difference but actually more about delegating and feeling engaged while also having to do less and spend less time. Cuz sometimes that's just what feels possible. Donating during election season looks different every year (including $0 some years), but this time it looked like trusting a couple of people in my life who have been doing advocacy/policy/election/curation work their whole lives when they said donate to this and that. It also looked like giving to a couple of really high level orgs that will get the money where it needs to go on the overwhelmingly complicated national/state level and donating to super specific candidates and causes in our local neighborhood (more protected bike lanes, pleeeeeeeease!).
Not sure what this category is called but it's some combo of focusing on what's right in front me and connecting with real human beings IRL
We attended a city council candidate meet ‘n’ greet event at a woman-owned bike shop down the street where we ate tasty sandwiches, met a sweet and generous and politically active resident who introduced us to other cargo biking families, and got lots of love and paper towels from various adults who were sympathetic and helpful when our kiddo had an accident and was super upset. We have this candidate's sign in our window — the first time we've ever done that. When one of his canvassers rang our doorbell the other day just to thank us for having the sign up (and for the quote I chalked on our stoop — I'm cheesy and do this regularly), we bonded. When the campaign volunteer who helped me get set up to do textbanking and I started a personal text convo about our kids' ages and where they go to school, I got the sense I might make a new neighborhood friend. Whether we're celebrating or mourning at the election night party they're hosting, I'm psyched to do that with real people.
Sure, I want my candidates to win. Yes, more than anything, I want the rights and protections and respect that I believe we all deserve to be enacted into law. But my engagement this election season really comes down to something that I’ve been craving, that I love nurturing, and that I’m always striving to build: connection, community, communion — with my own values and higher self, with my family, with my neighbors, with the place I’ve chosen to call home, with a future I’m co-creating.
As Heather McGee, creator of the Sum of Us podcast, said recently on another podcast, “Liberation is connection. In one paradigm, I’m shackled to someone and liberation is ‘I’m flying free on my own,’ but that’s a false, patriarchal, Western view.” When those words hit my eardrums, I stopped making my fried egg breakfast sandwich, dropped the spatula, shouted “Whoa!” to myself, and have been keeping my election season sanity by relaxing into the idea of true freedom as kinship, joining up, relationship ever since.