My Community Votes By Dan Millis
I was walking the streets of Central Tucson, clipboard in hand. My wife Kate had been doing a lot of canvassing to get Democrats out to vote for the midterm election, and I was finally tagging along. It was just before the deadline to get mail-in ballots to the post office. Our friend Jimmy was with us, with his one-year-old daughter, MJ, strapped to his back. I was finally joining Kate’s volunteer efforts to improve the quality of people in elected offices. I wasn’t all that enthusiastic, but it wasn’t too painful once I got out there.
I wandered down a side street, glancing between my clipboard and the house numbers, looking for the next home on my list. I got to a small house that sat at the back of a group of other small houses. I followed a sandy path and knocked on the door. An older woman’s voice answered “Momento!”
It seemed like she was the caretaker for these little condo-type apartments. Her place was nicer than the others, all of which were a bit rundown. She had a small, carefully tended garden around her front door with potted pollinator plants and a few little statuettes. She was moving slowly but seemed to be in good spirits.
I asked if she had received her ballot and she said “Sí.” But she wasn’t sure what to do with it—this was her first time voting in the US! In Spanish, she told me how she decided to become a citizen out of fear. She saw terrible things happening to her friends and acquaintances, and terrifying things on the news. It was time to get her citizenship to be protected from deportation and detention.
This woman was very supportive of the work we were doing and very appreciative that I was using my free time to sit down with her on a weekend morning. For years in Arizona, but especially right now, people who are elderly, not wealthy, female, and/or brown are under nearly constant attack. They’re harassed and pressured by police, politicians, intolerant and ignorant people, and sensationalist media. The system exploits and scapegoats those people, and profits from oppression. I really resent having to be a participant in that system, but this is where I was born and this is probably where I’ll die. I have to do what little I can, whenever I feel up for it, to make a difference.
* * *
We spent a couple hours knocking on the doors of the people on our list, mostly registered Democrats. Often our knocks went unanswered. Some folks I spoke with had already sent in their ballots, some appreciated the reminder, and a few didn’t have time to talk. I wandered down a side street, glancing between my clipboard and the house numbers, looking for the next home on my list. I got to a small house that sat at the back of a group of other small houses. I followed a sandy path and knocked on the door. An older woman’s voice answered “Momento!”
It seemed like she was the caretaker for these little condo-type apartments. Her place was nicer than the others, all of which were a bit rundown. She had a small, carefully tended garden around her front door with potted pollinator plants and a few little statuettes. She was moving slowly but seemed to be in good spirits.
I asked if she had received her ballot and she said “Sí.” But she wasn’t sure what to do with it—this was her first time voting in the US! In Spanish, she told me how she decided to become a citizen out of fear. She saw terrible things happening to her friends and acquaintances, and terrifying things on the news. It was time to get her citizenship to be protected from deportation and detention.
* * *
She said that her conservative son always discouraged her from voting, so she was glad to get her vote-by-mail ballot. She invited me to sit down with her and help her fill it out. I asked her which type of candidate she liked and what policies she valued. We talked for a while about the attacks she felt that she and her fellow immigrants were subjected to. She wanted to vote for the Democrats. We sat in her garden and chatted for close to an hour. I tried to explain each of the ballot’s propositions to her and shared what I knew about each candidate. We filled out her ballot together and ended up having a pretty good time!
* * *
It was cool helping her vote for the first time in the US. I felt like I actually accomplished something, however small. It probably wouldn’t swing any of the vote tallies, but for her it was a pretty big deal. For me it was a big deal, too. So often when canvassing, we just leave the literature on doors because people aren’t home or aren’t really all that interested.This woman was very supportive of the work we were doing and very appreciative that I was using my free time to sit down with her on a weekend morning. For years in Arizona, but especially right now, people who are elderly, not wealthy, female, and/or brown are under nearly constant attack. They’re harassed and pressured by police, politicians, intolerant and ignorant people, and sensationalist media. The system exploits and scapegoats those people, and profits from oppression. I really resent having to be a participant in that system, but this is where I was born and this is probably where I’ll die. I have to do what little I can, whenever I feel up for it, to make a difference.
* * *
I’ll definitely be out there again knocking on doors in 2020. I hope a lot more people will be alongside MJ, Kate, Jimmy and me, at least compared to 2016 and 2018. Things have gone too far off the deep end and we need some drastic positive change. |
Dan was born and raised on occupied Indigenous land in Arizona, where he has worked as an educator and activist for nearly 20 years. The more he learns about US politics, history and foreign policy, the more urgently he feels the need to work for justice and positive change. |