My itinerary for a road trip south included a weekend with my daughter Katrina, who lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. A week or so before the planned visit, she informed me that she had committed to a few hours of pre-midterm canvassing on that Saturday morning; would I mind accompanying her? Of course I said yes ("Whatever you want, Honey!"), but inside, I was whining. Canvassing? Intruding on people at their homes? Trying to avoid political confrontations? This was way out of my comfort zone! But needless to say, the mother in me said sure, no problem!
And as it turned out, our canvassing was devoid of all the things I was fearing. It was a walk in the park, so to speak, despite the "park" often appearing to be something else entirely. More on that later.
I am of that breed of liberal who embraces political correctness to the point that I am puzzled and angry that the term itself has become somewhat of a trigger. How can anyone be against the simple courtesy of not offending others? So when Katrina asked me over breakfast this morning if I was going to write a blog post about our canvassing experience, I told her that I'd considered it but decided against it, for fear that I would say something wrong. Because in my mind, our experience had much to do with race. In other words, the story cannot be accurately told without revealing that we were two white women knocking on doors in a predominantly black neighborhood.
Katrina called BS on that (well, not literally) and gave me her opinion on why I should, indeed, blog about it. And so here I am, ready to (carefully) dive in.
We were assigned to a neighborhood in Person County NC. "Turf 14," our clipboard said. I was relieved to see that we were assigned to knock only on doors of registered Democrats, as well as a few undeclared persons. No Republican households. The fear of political confrontations disappeared. I can do this!
When we found Turf 14, it took us awhile to find a place to park. All of the streets had "No Parking" signs, and there did not appear to be any public lots or stores in front of which to park. And while we drove around the neighborhood looking for a parking spot, we were quite aware that several people were watching, wondering who these strangers were driving around their neighborhood. We parked in an empty lot a short distance away, put up our umbrellas, and went in.
We'd set up a system beforehand. Katrina would do the knocking and talking, while I would navigate the map and the list of houses to approach. I would also tally the results of each contact. Although I struggled with controlling an umbrella, a clipboard, a pen, and a pair of reading glasses, I managed to shuffle through the 10-page list of names (divided by streets) and complete a fairly accurate report.
As we found each house on our list, we were aware of the houses we passed by. In several cases, those houses were in better shape than the ones upon whose doors we knocked. While I deduced that we were in a poor, black neighborhood, Katrina's more acute observation revealed that we were in a mixed neighborhood and that most likely, the houses not on our list were occupied by registered Republicans, who are most often white. This, of course, is a generalization. But the truth is that none of the people in the houses we approached were white, although we did see some white people as we walked the streets.
One thing that I noticed each and every time someone answered the door was that there was a look of suspicion and distrust on the face of the resident of the house. But as soon as Katrina announced that we were with the Democratic Party, those faces softened into an expression of welcome. As she explained why we were there, our differences seemed to disappear, if only for the moment, and there was spoken and tacit acknowledgement that we were on the same page. Each interaction ended pleasantly, even with the two residents who asserted that they do not vote.
Despite the reality that there were several houses in disrepair, their porches overwhelmed with trash and debris, there were other homes with little gardens in the yard, welcoming signs, and an obvious attempt to establish the building as a home, not just a house. Our favorite experience was on a front porch occupied by three women who schooled us on who lives where, how everyone intended to vote, and which doors we should be sure to knock on. Several of the homes had an abundance of Halloween decorations, right alongside the "Thank You, Jesus" placards. I recall the house that had a "Keep Out!" sign on the door which made us wonder if it was for real or just a Halloween decoration, as it was designed to look like dripping blood! Katrina, obedient child that she is, refused to approach any house that had a "No Trespassing" sign in the yard.
After several hours, during which we did not quite complete all the addresses on our list, time restraints demanded that we leave Turf 14 and head back to headquarters to turn in our sheets. As exhausted as I was, my reflections on the experience were all positive. So here are my take-aways:
~ There's a reason that we were well-received in this neighborhood. We declared ourselves Democrats. And in this case, it is not about tribalism. It's the certainty that the Democratic Party is the party of compassion, and the people we spoke to know that. Once we established that shared belief, we were non-threatening to one another.
~ Katrina and I discussed the differences between a couple of white people going into a black neighborhood to canvass and a couple of black people going into a white neighborhood to canvass. I'll let you use your own imagination to come to your own conclusions about this. But I think it's fair to say that these two scenarios are not equal. What will it take to correct that misconception?
~ The current divisiveness in our country is devastating. Finding common ground with one another is essential if we are going to overcome this divide. It could be as simple as recognizing that whatever neighborhood we occupy, whatever ethnic heritage we claim, whatever economic status we fall under, we have much more in common than that which divides us. I know that I could have spent an afternoon on the porch with those three women and had a damn good time. It's not that hard.
And by the way, GET OUT AND VOTE!
