I guess you could say I’ve been politically active even before I was able to vote. I come from a long line of politically active women in my family. This includes my great-grandmother, who was a suffragette. She fought in Kansas for women’s right to vote. When I was little, she made me promise never to shirk my responsibilities as a voter, and never take for granted the rights that she and others fought to give women. I have kept that promise to her. I have never missed an election, I volunteer for candidates and research the issues. I keep an eye on my local representative, as well as the ones who represent me in DC. I call their offices when I feel they aren’t doing what I feel is right for my city, county, state, or country.
I was 17 when I registered to vote, I registered as a Democrat because that’s what my mom and dad were. I researched the candidates, and went to the voting booth to cast my vote five months after my 18th birthday in a presidential election. I was so proud, I beamed with joy when I came out. My activism started in full force then as well. I counter-protested at Planned Parenthood clinics, volunteered for political campaigns, and worked phone banks calling voters to ensure they voted for the candidate I thought deserved to be elected. I drove vans to drive Senior citizens and other people who were home-bound to their polling places. I went door-to-door to register people to vote. I’ve worked every single presidential election since I was 22 years old, in some fashion or another.
Yeah, I’ve always been politically active.
In 2016, I was recovering from an injury and was unable to volunteer like I had in prior years. I wanted to do work for the Clinton campaign, but I wasn’t able to do what I had in the past. Canvassing was out of the question, and I was devastated. Because of this, I did things like texting voters with MoveOn, volunteered for a few phone banks, and tried like hell to ensure every single Democrat out there voted for Hillary Clinton. The day of the election came, and I went into the voting booth to cast my ballot for the first woman to win a nomination by a major national party. I cast my vote for Clinton, and said “This is for you, Granny”. Tears of joy flowed down my cheeks as I took my ballot to the ballot box.
11/8/2016, the worst day I can imagine. Somehow, the unthinkable happened. Donald Trump won the election. I was crushed, and sunk into a depression. I felt like I had a limited amount of time, and that I needed to do “SOMETHING” to make a difference. I turned to Twitter to “scream into the void”, express the frustration I was feeling. I followed people like Andrea Chalupa and Sarah Kendzior before the election, and listened to their warnings. Their warnings, and others, were one of the reasons why I was so distraught. I knew what was coming, it was just a matter of time.
I have an anonymous Twitter account (even my husband doesn’t know my handle). I felt fairly safe that what I was saying wasn’t going to be traced back to me. I felt free, but decided that I needed to do more. I found #TheResistance on Twitter. That was my answer. I joined a few of @CaptainsLogAZ followback parties, and gained followers at a rapid pace. As my following grew, I was pleasantly surprised that my Tweets were being spread around, and people were responding to what I had to say. What I said was resonating with others. I found more people to follow. I gobbled up the content on a daily basis.
I heard about the Women’s March the day after the inauguration. I decided to participate. I had a goal; I was going to go and walk the entire route. I spent a week making my sign, deciding on what I wanted to say. On the day of the march, I drove myself to the train station, crammed myself on the train, and made my way downtown. I marched the mile-and-a-quarter route. I had to stop and rest several times, but I made it. I didn’t feel like I was alone anymore. The sea of people I was immersed in gave me solace that others felt the same.
I joined a group shortly after the march, and met other like-minded people on Twitter. In two years time, I am pleased to say that these people have become friends. People I really care about. Although we still keep our anonymity, I feel like I know these people. We’ve shared highs, lows, happy and sad times. We’ve stayed up all hours chatting, planning events, calls to actions, laughing, crying, and feeling the frustration of the crazy daily news cycle.
My tweets range in subject matter, but if I had to pick two special interests, I would say that the Russia/Trump connection and tweeting the truth out in time when Donald Trump and his band of sycophants spew lies on a daily basis. I still use my Twitter account to vent my frustration, but now my friends on Twitter help bring me balance in this sea of chaos.
This insanity is guaranteed to get worse before it gets better. Remember, we’re all in this together. When it gets to be too much, take a break, breathe, recenter, turn off the world. You’ll be more effective because of it.
Peace
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