It’s been awhile. Who knew how much work a Congressional campaign would be? For the better part of two months, I have lived and breathed the most expensive Congressional race in U.S. history as a co-captain of my voting precinct in the Atlanta suburb of Alpharetta for Jon Ossoff.
My co-captain, Gracile Dawes, was quoted on the cover of the Wall Street Journal this morning, for heaven’s sakes. Seriously. This thing is a big deal. You can read the article
here.
So what’s it like on the eve of the election? From my perspective, unless you’re on the front lines of either campaign, it seems to me many people are the victims of misinformation. And one of the most concerning bits of misinformation involves the motivation of the very people volunteering for the campaigns.
It’s an us vs them climate down here, which honestly leaves little room for the rest of us. Like myself. And Gracile.
You see, we aren’t Democrats. We aren’t from California. We’re women of deep faith, raising our families in the suburbs. I’m a moderate. She’s a registered Republican. For too long we knew the system wasn’t working, that a gap between the major parties’ policies and many Americans was widening. The election in November pushed the concern to a crisis. So when the special election in Georgia’s 6th came up, we knew we needed to help.
Yes, we’re those ‘suburban moms’ mentioned in an
article in USA Today just this morning.
But we’re not the liberals who’ve been waiting for a chance to grab a seat. We’re concerned citizens who feel Jon Ossoff will best represent not only us, but our entire district.
Today, Gracile is hijacking the rest of my blog to tell her story in her own words.
So before you chalk us up to bleeding heart liberals who hate America, read on. Gracile embodies the sentiment that has carried a 30 year-old native Atlantan (yes, born and raised) to the forefront of the national political scene.
Why Ossoff? Why Now?
My name is Gracile Dawes. There are a lot of words I can throw out there to describe myself that are important to me: wife, mother, Christian, sister, daughter, friend, advocate, and mental health therapist. But look at each of these words – do you see that they are actually relationships? My roles are important to me because people are important to me.
I have tried to write this so many times, too many times. This is my story about one thing during one season of my life. Politics. I’m not very good at this, but I’ll try anyway.
I’m going to start with the day after the Presidential election. Waking up, I felt so confused, so sad. One of my first thoughts was, “How will I explain this to my daughter one day?” Only five at the time, I realized Donald Trump will be the first President she remembers, and I also know that she will eventually hear his words bragging about sexual assault. I’m still not sure what I will say when that day comes. Maybe I’ll just hold her and cry and tell that I have no idea why people voted for him, or why others didn’t speak against this evil, but that I have done and will continue to do everything I can to keep her safe and advocate for her.
I believe in this country. I love democracy. Our Constitution and its checks and balances is simply brilliant. I’m kind of a nerd about it, actually.
So after November, I decided that I would have to pay more attention and get involved. In the following weeks, I started talking to others. As a therapist, I listened to others. Friends shared their concerns. How could they help their biracial kids feel safe? How would they educate their special needs kids if public schools were dismantled? How would they get medical care for their children born with significant medical conditions? What would happen to the marriage equality rights they waited so long for? What would happen to our environment when it was at the mercy of profit and industry? To name a few.
The first time I cued up C-Span was to watch the Devos hearing. The sound bites were absurd, and I thought that they must have been taken out of context. I watched the whole thing twice. It was terrible. She didn’t know what IDEA was. She wouldn’t commit to continue a bipartisan effort to address the epidemic of sexual assault on college campuses. She didn’t confirm that charter and private schools receiving public funds would be held to the same standards as public schools. My Facebook feed lit up from my most liberal to my most conservative friends. No one thought she was qualified for the job.
After the hearing, I started calling my state Senators and the line was almost always busy or their mail boxes were full. I eventually got through. I emailed them. I even sent them post cards. I wasn’t the only one. They were inundated daily with phone calls, post cards, and protestors outside their offices. They both voted to confirm her.
In Feburary, I roped my sister into going to what I thought was a Town Hall meeting in Greensboro, Georgia, over two hours away. There were a lot of police around. The room slowly filled up, then overflowed. When the meeting started, several young staffers for Perdue, Isakson and Hice came out and explained that our elected officials were not coming to the meeting, as it was an open office meeting to help people needing government assistance with specific issues. The room erupted. I have never been in a situation that felt so charged. It was a little scary knowing that one thing could make this crowd explode. People took the mic one by one and told their stories – why they were “concerned” or “worried” – but it didn’t take much insight to tell that these people were scared. They were scared they would lose their health insurance or their children would lose health insurance. They told their stories of immigrating to this country and how they had contributed, as if they suddenly had to defend their worth as citizens. They talked about their children’s special needs and vital accommodations through the school system.
I had signed up on a sheet thinking it was to ask a question, but ended up being able to meet with staff for all three elected officials. They were so nice, and so young. Just one or two years out of college. They listened but could offer me no answers as they didn’t have the authority to speak for their bosses. My final question, my most important question, was about the role public outcry has on their voting. I explained my effort to contact Perdue and Isakson about Devos. They told me that the senators were given daily updates about the communication and were aware and concerned. My response was that I didn’t care if they were aware or concerned, I wanted to know at what point, or if at all, communication from individuals they represent could influence their vote. These staffers had no answer. I thanked them for their time. I ripped out my pages of questions, wrote my contact info on the back, and gave it to them.
We drove home and the next day, I read about Republicans blaming these charged town hall meetings on paid protesters or organized liberal groups. But I was there. That is not what happened at all. As I was waiting for the meeting to start, I talked to many people around me and they were just like me. Some had come on their own, some with a friend or two. I wasn’t paid. I wasn’t an extreme liberal.
Why was the tone to try to discredit those raising questions, rather than to actually address the question raised?
On April 12th, I voted for Jon Ossoff. It was the first time I voted for a Democrat for a national seat…EVER. I shook his hand that day. It was also the first time I had ever met anyone I voted for. On April 14, I went canvassing with a self-proclaimed die hard liberal and my moderate liberal/independent friend Laura. People laughed when I told them I was sorry about all the mail, but I didn’t really understand because I was Republican and wasn’t getting any of it.
Jon Ossoff came so close to winning on April 18th, but in the end, a runoff was announced. Laura invited me to coffee with a staff person from Ossoff’s campaign the next week. I squeezed the meeting in between a morning prayer group and meeting my husband for an anniversary lunch. Laura and I agreed to be co-captains for our voting precinct for the campaign.
The next morning, I got my oldest two off to elementary school and my three year old and I went to Ossoff’s nearest office for coffee with Jon Ossoff. I still wasn’t that sure what I was doing, but I have this belief that you should show up for conversations. He came in the room, sat down, and asked what our questions were. As my three year old devoured donuts, colored, and whispered a hundred questions to me, I listened to the conversation. Someone made a comment about giving up on Republicans and Jon quickly responded that every vote and every person mattered.
Then these words came out of my mouth, “Don’t give up on Republicans. I’m a Republican.”
From there, Jon wanted to know my questions, so I briefly talked about my experience at the Greensboro meeting and asked what his plan was to stay connected to our district – if he believed he was able to represent us, or if elected, he would simply represent his party. He again talked about valuing every person, even people who didn’t vote for him. He talked about getting his office up and running quickly and his commitment to voting for 6th district interests. The conversation continued. He listened more than he talked. I talked about how it seems that politics are now entering into casual conversations. He was really kind. He talked about how much we have in common and suggested using that as a starting point in my conversations with others. He talked to my three year old for a bit. My three year old thinks they are good friends now. He said he wanted to come meet my friends.
Laura is more persistent with things than I am, and I appreciate that about her. She contacted his events coordinator and pushed for a meet and greet and got it scheduled. On June 1st, Jon came to our local Mexican restaurant and as our friends and family munched on chips and tacos, he answered their questions. ALL of their questions. He made his way around the room and spoke with everyone individually. He even accepted some constructive criticism from my dad. He was personable, he was sincere, he was available. It resonated with those in attendance.
Now we’re almost to election day. By sharing my story, I hope you will look past the constant barrage of information regarding this race and seek out the stories of those involved. In addition, may I suggest the following: watch and/or listen to the debates held over the past two weeks. Actually read the candidates websites. And if you’ve made it this far, I hope you take away two things:
– I am a moderate and I’m involved. I will not be pushed out of the political conversation by either extreme.
– Elected officials have to stay connected, available and responsive to the people who elected them.
As you can see, Gracile Dawes isn’t just talking. She’s on the ground, working for something she believes in. I’m proud to be working alongside her. And to call her my friend.
Now get some rest, friends. Tomorrow’s a big day.
If you haven’t heard by now, it’s International Women’s Day. All day, I’ve seen news alerts and social posts celebrating the power and potential of women worldwide who work for gender equality. And it’s a good year for it.
When the polls came in and Jon conceded, my hope didn’t fade. Somehow, it intensified. Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe it was my experience over these last months – the people I met, the passion we felt to make a difference. The way conversations about politics transcended party loyalty. Maybe it was Jon’s words about how he truly believes we are more united than divided, words I’ve heard him say – in person – more than once. But I have hope.
Earlier this week, I took both my girls to the library. As we pulled into the parking lot, my little one announced she would be getting a book on Colonial times and Sacagawea. She did that and more. Her sister wound up with a biography on Abigail Adams.
Her Own Two Feet 