Back to the Grind

Politics is its own unique animal.

I say this as someone who over time has become deeply invested in the field over the past decade. After starting off in the education field, I had an inkling how my students' home environment would impact their learning. What I didn't know what just how much of a student's success was determined by the lottery of their birth including what neighborhood they were born in, what their parents did for work, what resources the family was able to provide them, and how they were able to negotiate a public school system that included social and cultural expectations which overwhelmingly favored the ruling class. We were over-testing and under-educating our students and even I, as a doe-eyed and bushy-tailed young teacher, could see the obvious disparities between my own school and those that drew from the more affluent parts of the city. School choice was never an actual choice for those without proper means, it was simply a cute term that superintendents and school boards liked to brag about because it made them feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The reality was there are two very different worlds and two very different paths that are given us before we even enter this world. The haves and the have-nots would be determined long before a student even stepped foot inside a public school building for the very first time.

The question that drove me was to figure out how to get to the root causes of these disparities. After all, there was so much holding back the families of these low-income students of color from a lack of health care to inadequate pay to a lack of affordable transportation to the worries of an undocumented family or family members. Knowing all this, how do you focus on just one thing? Where do you begin? What do you sacrifice? And what can and should be the role of someone with my background and education who doesn't share these same life experiences? 

Ten years later, I still don't have all the answers. But I do know that I have found value in the meaningful work that campaigns do. Even here in the bluest of blue Massachusetts, I have met impacted community members who are still struggling to overcome out country's systemic racism and xenophobia that is as American as apple pie. The country's immigration systems is irrevocably broken, leaving millions of our sisters and brothers in a constant state of uncertainty. Housing prices are through the roof, making homeownership a non-starter for tens of thousands of millennials and xennials. The climate crisis has been and remains a racial justice issue and there exists hundreds of brownfield sites intentionally located next to or near some of our most historically underrepresented communities. Even with an increased minimum wage and state-led legislation to protect women, there remains a subset of domestic workers who are used and abused with home service companies exploiting them on a daily basis. With the 7th highest rate of income inequality of any state, Massachusetts itself has become a land where one's story and life experience is wildly different based upon their zip code.

That's why I feel compelled to give it my all these next 68 days by joining the field team for the presumptive Democratic nominee for governor.

It has been six years since I was in full-on campaign mode. I'm six years older, six years slower, and likely will have sixteen more years of life experience from the xennials that will be my bosses. I can't remember the last time I worked a 14-hour day or a 70-hour week but those are rapidly approaching. I'm being thrust into a bustling campaign office whereas I'd previously been working from the sanctity and silence of my home for the past 30 months. I'll be in close proximity to Trump supporters, hearing them maliciously attack my candidate and doing so in a way intended to provoke me into making an error in judgment. I'll be living off pizza and take out food without any time to get away from my usual late afternoon walk. I'll be cutting turf at a time when I should be fast asleep. I'll be practicing my field pitch during my morning shower. And I'll be pouring out my heart and soul knowing full well that this might only be a temporary, ten-week gig.

But I can't not do it. I can't not pass on one more chance to make history. While a victory here won't be as monumental as a Hillary Clinton win would have been in 2016, having Massachusetts elect both its first female and first LGBT governor would be a significant stepping stone. It would create hope for thousands of young girls. It would create jobs and strong climate policy and better educating funding, none of which would be available should our Republican opponent win. Most of all, it would create an environment where I'd have a governor I'd be proud to call my own who would create a space where I would be much more comfortable bringing a child into the world. That's the big reason to do this: to leave this world better than when we found it. If it takes a 68-day whirlwind campaign to that, then that is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

To those in the EB community involving yourselves this campaign season, our hats off to you. It's never easy. But you're making a difference. We're not storming the beaches of Normandy but we are doing our part to defeat 21st century American-born fascism. Our war will be fought against trolls instead of tanks and misinformation instead of missiles. There are those that are unreachable. But for those on the fence, for those who simply need to have an open and honest conversation with a neighbor, that is where you all shine. Because your passion is contagious. Talking up a candidate or a ballot question creates opportunities for you to speak to your lived experience. You all are cheerleaders for the candidates and issues that you care about. When you speak, people listen.

And when we collectively raise all our voices, there is nothing we can't accomplish.