Reshaping Hearts through Political Canvassing
Maybe it is a weird quirk that I actually like going door-to-door to talk to complete strangers about politics. Maybe it is even weirder that I enjoyed it during this most recent election: as a “blue” Democrat in a “purple” town where Trump won for the third time.
Sure, I’ve experienced my share of yuck over the years, usually in the form of doors slammed in my face or getting cussed out. But those moments are much smaller to me than the folks who invite me in or shiver on the stoop with me for 20 minutes in their stocking feet while we talk politics. The occasional unpleasant moments weigh so much less than the moments of unexpected connection and even intimacy with people I might never have met any other way.
The shattered old man whose adult daughter had nearly died of an opioid overdose that morning. The vigorous elderly woman who gave me the rundown on how she had voted in every election since Eisenhower. The woman who said nothing while her husband went on and on praising Trump; after hubby stomped off, she quickly muttered she was voting for Hillary and slammed the door. The three guys—all with the same story—in a row of efficiency apartments: lost their factory jobs in 2008, lost their houses, lost their partners, washed-up, jobless, and hopeless in Ripon. My heart broke wide open . . . and the Obama campaign got some traction with a few new voters.
Once I rang a doorbell in a low-income housing development. The guy who came to the door was a taut bundle of rage, just radiating anger and hostility. I said I was knocking on doors for Janet somebody-or-other who was running for state assembly. He burst out, “They’re all a bunch of d—heads!”
“Well,” I proffered, “so we gotta counteract the d—heads.” He looked at me like Mount Olympus had spoken, punched the air with his fist, and yelled, “Yeah! Counteract the d—heads!”
It turned out that until recently he had been a homeless veteran. I was the first person to ring his doorbell and the first person ever to enter his apartment (which I confess I did with some trepidation). For about 20 exhilarating and slightly alarming minutes, we surfed the churning sea of his rage, gradually channeling his anger and energy toward positive actions he could take.
We established the procedure for registering to vote, his polling place, the bona fides of the candidate, the issues veterans were facing, where he could get more information . . . and every so often, he would break in and yell, “Yeah! Counteract the d—heads!”
As we were finishing up he told me what it meant to him that I had rung his doorbell and come inside to talk with him. We did a final grinning fist-pump and refrain together as I walked out the door.
The real value of canvassing lies not in winning the election but in strengthening the social fabric. The medium is the message: “I value you enough to knock on your door to talk with you and hear you out.”
I had a whole new experience of canvassing when I ran for a non-partisan county board seat. In my first election, I ran against a “God and guns” Christian nationalist who favored jury nullification and armed resistance to the government. It was a hard-fought race, and I canvassed a lot of Republicans. The second time around, I had no opponent, but I still sent out a letter to every likely voter and went door-to-door. Reaching out to my constituents after a couple years on the job actually felt more meaningful to me than anything I had accomplished on the board. I realized at one point that the means and the end had switched places for me: rather than canvassing giving me an opportunity to serve on the county board, being on the county board gave me a reason and an opportunity to canvas!
One day as I was explaining for the umpteenth time why I was campaigning, even though I didn’t have an opponent, I realized this: even though I could win without MAGA (Make America Great Again) votes, I no longer wanted to. Was this campaign reshaping my heart? I found that even when much about serving on the board was frustrating, the chance to build relationships across the aisle motivated me to run.
I once learned at a recycling center that strong paper has long fibers; having only short fibers makes paper weak and prone to tearing. I think this is a useful metaphor for thinking about communities. As I see it, any connection between two people is a fiber. A long fiber is a relationship across divides of class, race, education, neighborhood, political leanings, etc. The more long fibers you have, the stronger your community.
For me, canvassing my purple district is about creating fibers—the longer the better!
A few weeks ago when I was out canvassing, an old home-schooling friend of mine came out to say hi. She is an Evangelical Christian and a Trump supporter, and she’s one of the best mothers and loveliest souls I have known. She knew what I was doing, and she still came out to give me a hug and tell me how much she treasured our friendship, not only despite our differences but, in part, because of them. I felt the same way. It was a small town, long-fiber moment.
As I see it, the real value of canvassing lies not in winning the election but in strengthening the social fabric. The medium is the message: “I value you enough to knock on your door to talk with you and hear you out.” It’s harder to demonize people you have those conversations with. And it’s harder to distrust a government that shows up on your doorstep and asks you what you think.
I often meet people who bemoan the lack of opportunities to engage with people across our divides. Well, here’s a simple prescription: canvas! Yes, there will be a lot of doors that won’t open, and some days, it will be nothing more than a frequently interrupted walk in the neighborhood. But you will also have a chance to connect with an amazing, random collection of human beings, some of whom will touch your heart in ways you cannot predict. You will help weave our distrusting, anger-shredded society back together, fiber by fiber.
Greetings, Kat Griffith! As we share in weaving a community with our articles in the pages of this issue of Friends Journal, I remember the time you lived with my parents in Monteverde, Costa Rica, helping build community with their neighbors! It’s good to read of your more recent endeavors. Well done, Kat!
Os
Thank you Kat. Your experience chimes with some of mine, as I canvassed here in the UK as part of Greenpeace’s “Climate Vote” initiative. We were (carefully) not promoting a particular party or candidate, and once people realised this and that we weren’t asking for money either, but interested in listening to any concerns they had about the environment, almost all who had time were keen to talk. Many had clearly not been listened to on the subject before, and most didn’t thing they could do anything about it, but we explained that if they could vote, they could look at the party manifestos and their candidates and see which of their policies might address their concerns. Greenpeace could send them a briefing about this when the manifestos came out if that helped.
It was really heartwarming to see people make connections between their own actions, politics, and things (places, people, creatures) that they were really concerned about Even the 7th Day Adventist who was looking forward to the End of the World was grateful for the conversation!
Not only is this kind of activity helping build community but it also helps give people confidence in their own judgment, which is being rapidly undermined by social media, accelerated by AI.
Wow Kat you are truly an inspiration and a peacemaker!