Cultivate a Constituency
The political scene in New London is more than well established. It's written in concrete: Go Democrat or go home! In our town of 27,000, set along the confluence of the Thames River and Long Island Sound, only about 16,000 of us are registered to vote and only 3,000 to 4,000 of us turn out for off-year local elections. Before this election, there were about 70 Greens. Our party's strategy was to bring out new voters, a great thought, but I had no idea how hard that would prove to be.
I felt strongly that environmental and climate-change issues should be reframed as relevant to the poor and working class of New London. So when, for instance, I talked about creating a more walkable city, I was careful to emphasize not just that such a goal would be an environmental plus, but that it would aid the working poor, too. After all, they walk out of necessity, so safer sidewalks and a city infrastructure that takes walkers into account -- including people in wheelchairs or with limited sight and hearing -- would be a good investment for all.
The same was true when it came to planting more trees. A better urban canopy wouldn't just make our local world look better or absorb more carbon dioxide, but slow street traffic and make life better for otherwise unwilling pedestrians.
I had hoped we would increase the local Green Party membership from 70 to 100, which didn't happen, but we did add a handful of new members and reengaged some older ones. Call it the most modest of successes.
Be Nice and Make Your Points
We ran an issue-focused campaign. I'm going to live in New London for a long time and so are my opponents. I generally avoided taking pot shots at them, cultivating instead what I thought of as a spirit of gentle disruption. Here's an example: most of the town government department heads the current mayor hired live outside New London (something that goes against the city's charter). The incumbent claimed he did so "to get the best," which sounded as if he felt there was no one in town good enough to run our departments.
At debates and forums, I pushed back hard on that issue, insisting that I would hire locally, not just because the charter says we should, but because not doing so sends a message to our kids that we aren't good enough. Such hiring practices also weaken our tax base, since some of the highest-paying jobs in our community go to people who don't even pay property taxes here. It took time to learn how to be critical without being cranky and offer creative solutions to decades of short-sighted, reactive decision-making by a relatively unaccountable leadership.
I also wanted to demonstrate that someone who wasn't a middle-aged white man could make a splash by running for mayor in our town. At 45, I'm no longer a young person. I even have a head full of white hair. But my two opponents were 20 years older, had grown up just blocks apart in the same New London neighborhood, and went to high school together. Long time friends and rivals, they could argue over who said what at a city council meeting a decade ago (and they did).
They took shots at each other over a past they shared. In one debate, the Republican even condemned the Democrat for driving a Tahoe while he drove a Prius. Never mind that the Tahoe was the official city-owned mayor's car. "I walked here," I said, "and I'm driving home with the three members of my family in a 2002 Honda Odyssey. We're happy to give you a ride to further decrease our carbon footprint." Everyone laughed and no one took us up on the offer.
Do What You Can
In 2018, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wore out her shoes as she campaigned to be the youngest member of the House of Representatives. She even tweeted photos of the bottoms of those shoes with the line, "I knocked on doors until the rainwater came through my soles. Respect the hustle."
I didn't wear out my shoes, but I do respect the hustle, AOC, I do! Still, I did what I could. When invited to run by the local chapter of the Green Party, I said I would do so to promote issues and amplify voices that weren't getting a reasonable hearing, but that I couldn't run a 24/7 campaign, not with a job and young kids to take care of. I held as fast as I could to that commitment, but thinking back on the -- by conservative count -- 14 public meetings, eight house parties, four television appearances (three of them hour-long), three public debates with the other mayoral candidates, and daily check-ins with my campaign manager, party chair, and fellow Green Party candidates, I still feel exhausted.
What I can't document is just what it meant to continually make myself visible in my community and connect with my neighbors. That, without a doubt, was the most rewarding and beautiful part of the experience. Handing out candy to trick or treaters, I ended up chatting with four high school football players who remembered my visit to their school earlier that week and told me their moms were voting for me. I was so happy, I dumped the rest of our candy in their bags.
I was walking to work one morning, balancing a birthday cake in one hand and trying to text with the other when a garbage truck pulled up next to me and the driver called out, "I hope you win! Nobody cares about sanitation!" We chatted for a few minutes as I assured him that I knew the funds for his department had been cut in recent years and that the Green Party platform supported more money for public works, while emphasizing recycling and composting. He cheered, toot-tooted his horn, and we both continued with our day.
And by the way, no one told me how much fun it would be to knock on doors and chat with strangers, each conversation offering me a yet more complex map of my community.
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