A story about how I lost 6 elections in one morning
Slightly melodramatic, still true. Also, if we're going to save the world we have to communicate better
Yesterday it took me an hour and half to get the nine miles from my house to the campus of Tennessee State University where the Tennessee Democratic Party was hosting an Executive Committee meeting. I got stuck in the middle of some blocked off streets for the St. Jude’s Rock and Roll Marathon, where I and a dozen or so other cars continued to just circle one another in side streets like pinballs trying to find an open chute.
It’s not a bad analogy really for the frustration that comes from trying to be an active Democrat in a red state that’s been woefully forgotten by national organizing interests for too long.
When it comes to activism and trying to change ::waves hand grandly:: all of this, I’m not really a take-it-to-the-streets kind of gal. I sunburn far too easily and I’m not a fan of sweating. But what I do enjoy and happen to be pretty good at, is incremental, structural change to current organizing systems. Which is why I keep trying to simply show up to Democratic organizing events in this state.
And y’all, they don’t make it easy.
I was trying to get to the TNDP meeting to run for one of the at-large delegate seats to the Democratic National Convention. I had filled out forms and tried to get through the minutia of the 66-page Delegate Selection Plan, but it wasn’t until the day before that I realized I had never been given the address for the meeting. It wasn’t on the website, couldn’t be found in any of the emails I’d been sent and probably wasn’t in the selection plan (I just checked, it wasn’t.)
Anyway. I was going to write a whole inspiring thing about how we make all of this too hard on ourselves and easy things like just putting the location of the meeting would go a long way toward getting more folks involved.
But I’m tired.
First Election
I spent an hour and half in blocked off streets with no signage telling me how to get out. I got to a meeting where a slate of 13 people “the Biden campaign” (I don’t know why I have air quotes here. It just felt air-quote-y) had apparently told the state party to elect as delegates was passed around in an email I wasn’t privy to because I’m not on the Executive Committee.
Those folks, who I’m sure are way more deserving than me, were elected.
Second Election
Great. That left one delegate slot up for grabs (the state was allocated 14.) But apparently you had to be nominated by someone on the Executive Committee before they’d vote on it. (This part wasn’t in the 66 pages. I checked.)
Not knowing this (but honestly, as a thinking human, I should have) I had to quickly run around the room asking complete strangers to nominate me. One lady had a hearing issue and didn’t understand the question, another one wasn’t a committee member and the third person was already nominating someone else. But the fourth! The fourth incredibly lovely woman I asked agreed to nominate me. All the flowers to Lee Jones, everyone. Bless her.
I made, (what I felt anyway) was a pretty solid, on-the-spot speech in front of these strangers, and passed out some flyers I’d been carrying around in my car since my trip to Cookeville a few weeks ago when I ran for delegate at the District level.
I lost. Fine. I get it. Long shot.
But! There were also five alternate delegate slots. GREAT! Let’s do this again. My new friend nominated me again. And I was all set to make another fairly solid speech to complete strangers, when one of the members called into question whether or not I should be allowed to speak a second time.
Sir!
Elections 3, 4, 5, 6 and omg... it was actually 7
While it was finally decided that this was a whole separate race, which meant separate speeches, that ten minutes of questioning whether or not I should be allowed to speak — it was specifically about me as none of the previous candidates were running as alternates — was so deflating.
I eventually lost each of the five rounds of voting for alternate delegates, and endured another 10 minutes of discussions and an actual vote about whether or not my name should be put back into consideration for rounds 2 through 5, when I became the lowest vote getter on round one.
Honestly I get it.
I’m a new kid who only knew maybe five people in that room. There are people in this state who have been DOING THE DAMN WORK to keep the Democratic Party lights on. And! In the fourth round, I actually got 10 votes which meant the world to me because those people didn’t know me from Adam. (That’s a phrase my dad used to say. Do people say that?) I also had several amazing people come up to me afterwards to shake my hand, thank me for being involved and give me their cards.
It was an exhausting experience, but I’m truly grateful to have gone through it just to have made the connections I did. I’m even having dinner in a few weeks with someone I met through this whole process.
That said, there’s more work to do. We have to register to vote, we have to vote and we have to fundraise.
Next time, let’s include the address where that work is being done.