Last week I went to a meeting at a nearby middle school, where four Pittsburgh Public Schools officials sat awkwardly at small tables on the auditorium stage and hundreds of adults and kids crowded into the seats and aisles. The meeting was held to gather community response to what the district euphemistically calls a “facilities utilization plan”: they’re proposing to close a bunch of schools and consolidate students elsewhere.

The meeting was…inefficient. “Chaotic” isn’t too strong a word. Children waved posters. Babies fussed in the heat. The light bulbs in the huge, old chandeliers kept flickering and dimming, and after one reference to “this building’s old electrical system” no one mentioned it again.

Haunted by neglect!

Here’s the thing, though: the people attending these meetings are the only force requiring a more thoughtful solution from the school district. The meetings are hella inefficient but they are—to borrow a phrase—powerful and effective. It’s a weird math, a sum greater than the whole of its parts. No one person sweating in the aisle or speaking at a staticky microphone is making the difference, but each of them is (genuinely) contributing to the difference. And it’s a tiny sacrifice for everyone there: everyone’s busy, could be somewhere else and doing something else.

For me right now, the upshot is twofold:

  1. I don’t have to show up for everything, because I’m not responsible for everything, and other people are working, too.
  2. I do have to show up for some things, because if we don’t, things don’t happen.

So, between now and the election

I agree with what Glennon Doyle said during the White Women for Harris call. I don’t want to end up lying on the couch crying on the night of November 5. I want to end up sitting on the floor with my arms around my teammates, our shoulders in each other’s sweaty armpits, having left it all on the field.

Here’s the thing: that sounds very grand. I like very grand! I like imagining myself as an Avenger or Abby Wambach scoring a winning goal! I like the idea that my brave and selfless work could push us over the finish line.

I don’t like the idea of canvassing or phone banking or sending money or putting my butt in a folding chair or saying something at the microphone that only a few people can actually hear and doesn’t inspire a standing ovation.

GOATs for Harris

I’m conscious that I’ve written, “I’ll figure out the best way for us to be involved in this election,” by which I kind of meant, “there are ways for ordinary doofuses to get involved, and then there are ways for busy and talented us.” Maybe it’s because I came up in a high-demand religious environment where the metric of success was how many people you cajoled out of Literal Hell. Maybe it’s because I’m American and expect astronomical returns on investment. Whatever the reason, I’m always reluctant to just…sign up and be one pair of feet for three hours on a Saturday, or one butt in a chair for an hour on a Tuesday night.

I say “we need to work hard to win this election,” but I mean “I need to do something I am assured is highly effective.”

But nah. I'm a regular volunteer. Let’s regular-volunteer for something. Be little; do the thing (even if it feels inefficient or chaotic); trust that it’s going to help.

Here's how

  1. Go to Mobilize or the PA Dems’ Ultimate Swing State (gulp) site
  2. Find an event in the next two weeks that makes sense for you
  3. Register for it
  4. Show up and do the thing
  5. Tell us about it here, and tell your friends about it to normalize it
  6. Do the same thing next week.

Shout-out to Bobby, who recommended that we order postcards from Moms Rising! Shout-out to Rosie, who has registered for multiple postcard-writing sessions! I signed up for virtual “message training” this weekend, so I know what to say when I write/canvass/phone bank. I’ll share that info here.

What are you signing up for?

Love you!!!