New Friends By Katie Sharar
I first canvassed to get out the vote for the 2016 presidential election. I was nervous about the possibility of a Trump presidency and motivated by the prospect of Arizona being a swing state, so I went out several times a month that fall to support Hillary Clinton.
During that election time, I mostly visited areas near the university where I reminded college students of deadlines and places to vote on campus. I also visited Spanish-speaking neighborhoods in South Tucson to help voters find rides to the polls, to explain the process to some new voters, and to translate information. Mostly, these were easy beats, and people were grateful for the reminders to vote. People were so caught up in the drama of the 2016 election that conversations flowed easily. It was a great introduction to canvassing.
The 2018 midterms were a little less straightforward. There were a handful of Democratic candidates that were seen as too moderate by some and too liberal by others. There was no easy “vote against Trump” figure like there was in the 2016 election. So not only did I encounter more people who were riled up about the candidates, I also found many people more irritated by canvassers. Partly this was because I had moved to a different part of town and my nearest precinct was very different demographically.
We parked at the community center along with a cluster of golf carts. These seemed to be the preferred mode of transportation for residents to zip around between their homes, friends’ homes, the pool, and the nearby shopping center. We divided up the roster of doors we would visit and agreed to meet back at a designated time.
I soon realized that in this community—unlike the university area or south Tucson—registered Democrats were, literally, few and far between. Not only did the demographic trend more conservative, but a lot of the people who lived in the community were seasonal residents of Tucson, coming down from places like Minnesota and Michigan for the winter. This meant that many people weren’t registered to vote in Tucson.
I called Mali. She was in a similar position, so we agreed to meet up and figure out a more strategic way to get through the names on our lists without spending all of our time walking.
As we were standing in the median on a quiet street, a golf cart approached. The woman in the cart slowed when she saw us. She leaned out from the frame of her cart and cheerfully greeted us, introducing herself as Nancy.
“You girls out canvassing?” she asked. Mali and I shyly nodded, expecting that she would be a Trump-supporting Republican given the dominant demographics of the community.
“I hope you’re on my team!” she bellowed with a wink.
“Well...” I started, glancing at Mali.
“I’m a Democrat!” Nancy proudly announced. “Will be until the day I die.”
She told us that her son was busy canvassing for the Democrats back in Michigan—where she lived part of the year—and how she had a particular soft spot for Democratic canvassers.
“How are you getting around?” she asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I said and explained our predicament.
“I’m heading home to watch TV. You girls hop on. You can drop me off and take my cart to make your lives easier!” Nancy offered.
“Wow! That’s so great!” I gasped.
“Thank you so much,” Mali added.
As we settled into the cart, Nancy gave us a sly smile.
“It’s not really my cart,” she confided with a lowered voice. “It’s my boyfriend’s. But he’s napping! He wouldn’t mind anyway.”
Nancy gave us a quick driving lesson, and we promised to have it back to her by the end of the afternoon. We didn’t exchange full names or numbers; she trusted we’d follow through and return the cart. We had a much better and more productive time travelling by cart than on foot. We scooted through the sprawling community, and apart from our age and political persuasion, we blended right in.
As promised, we returned to Nancy’s place at the end of the day. Her boyfriend had woken up and was only mildly startled to learn where his golf cart had been. He snapped a picture of Mali, Nancy, and me. Nancy wanted to remember her new friends.
During that election time, I mostly visited areas near the university where I reminded college students of deadlines and places to vote on campus. I also visited Spanish-speaking neighborhoods in South Tucson to help voters find rides to the polls, to explain the process to some new voters, and to translate information. Mostly, these were easy beats, and people were grateful for the reminders to vote. People were so caught up in the drama of the 2016 election that conversations flowed easily. It was a great introduction to canvassing.
The 2018 midterms were a little less straightforward. There were a handful of Democratic candidates that were seen as too moderate by some and too liberal by others. There was no easy “vote against Trump” figure like there was in the 2016 election. So not only did I encounter more people who were riled up about the candidates, I also found many people more irritated by canvassers. Partly this was because I had moved to a different part of town and my nearest precinct was very different demographically.
* * *
The most memorable canvassing experience I had was in the fall of 2018. Sometimes my partner and I have fun canvassing together (other times, schedules don’t align or we have slightly different ideas about how to effect change). We tackled a senior manufactured home community on the west side of Tucson.We parked at the community center along with a cluster of golf carts. These seemed to be the preferred mode of transportation for residents to zip around between their homes, friends’ homes, the pool, and the nearby shopping center. We divided up the roster of doors we would visit and agreed to meet back at a designated time.
I soon realized that in this community—unlike the university area or south Tucson—registered Democrats were, literally, few and far between. Not only did the demographic trend more conservative, but a lot of the people who lived in the community were seasonal residents of Tucson, coming down from places like Minnesota and Michigan for the winter. This meant that many people weren’t registered to vote in Tucson.
* * *
It was October, still warm in Tucson, especially in the middle of the day. I was frustrated when I’d walked over fifteen minutes just to knock on two doors and realized it would take me hours to get through all the names on my list.I called Mali. She was in a similar position, so we agreed to meet up and figure out a more strategic way to get through the names on our lists without spending all of our time walking.
As we were standing in the median on a quiet street, a golf cart approached. The woman in the cart slowed when she saw us. She leaned out from the frame of her cart and cheerfully greeted us, introducing herself as Nancy.
“You girls out canvassing?” she asked. Mali and I shyly nodded, expecting that she would be a Trump-supporting Republican given the dominant demographics of the community.
“I hope you’re on my team!” she bellowed with a wink.
“Well...” I started, glancing at Mali.
“I’m a Democrat!” Nancy proudly announced. “Will be until the day I die.”
She told us that her son was busy canvassing for the Democrats back in Michigan—where she lived part of the year—and how she had a particular soft spot for Democratic canvassers.
“How are you getting around?” she asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I said and explained our predicament.
“I’m heading home to watch TV. You girls hop on. You can drop me off and take my cart to make your lives easier!” Nancy offered.
“Wow! That’s so great!” I gasped.
“Thank you so much,” Mali added.
As we settled into the cart, Nancy gave us a sly smile.
“It’s not really my cart,” she confided with a lowered voice. “It’s my boyfriend’s. But he’s napping! He wouldn’t mind anyway.”
Nancy gave us a quick driving lesson, and we promised to have it back to her by the end of the afternoon. We didn’t exchange full names or numbers; she trusted we’d follow through and return the cart. We had a much better and more productive time travelling by cart than on foot. We scooted through the sprawling community, and apart from our age and political persuasion, we blended right in.
As promised, we returned to Nancy’s place at the end of the day. Her boyfriend had woken up and was only mildly startled to learn where his golf cart had been. He snapped a picture of Mali, Nancy, and me. Nancy wanted to remember her new friends.
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Katie has lived in Tucson since 2008. She currently works at a nonprofit organization in Nogales, Mexico. She enjoys exploring the desert, reading, and going for walks in her free time. |