As election day approached, I was having a chat with the rookies about the lifecycle of a ballot. A question came up about how they're routed from vote centers ( what used to be called polling places ).
As I gave them the low-down, here comes Big Bird!
Big Bird: And who is leading this discussion?
I raise my hand. ( I tell no lies )
Big Bird: Do I have to give you demerits?
Me: Nope! No demerits or detention, please. I'll shut up, Big Bird.
Big Bird took her seat then leaned in towards me. ' My bank account was hacked. ' She whispered. ' I had to change my direct deposit.'
Me: Say what? ....did you use your debit card online?
Crickets.
Big Bird's generation goes hard with the debit card like that. The Old Man ( same generation ) does the same shit. They write a check for
$ 5.00 dollars that takes days to be delivered, then they'll call someone about it. When online, they click on anything with the statement ' Buy this and get this free!' as though it’s true. Their entire lives have been analog and they have no idea what's going on.
' Big Bird, trust me on this.' I said. ' Only use your credit card online.'
I realised today Big Bird thinks Danny is cute. An older millennial, Danny does young voter engagement. During an election cycle, he's also in logistics operating the sorter. A musician and music geek, Danny and I had one chat about Janet Jackson. He started breaking down the arrangements and production nuances of her songs. If I'm a Level 3, Danny is a Level 5. He had recently discovered Discogs, an alternate universe popular with collectors looking for obscure, out of print vinyl.
Both Big Bird and Danny lived in Petaluma. She'd asked him a few times about carpooling to work.
' Let me get back to you.' He said.
' Big Bird, trust me on this.' I said. ' Only use your credit card online.'
I realised today Big Bird thinks Danny is cute. An older millennial, Danny does young voter engagement. During an election cycle, he's also in logistics operating the sorter. A musician and music geek, Danny and I had one chat about Janet Jackson. He started breaking down the arrangements and production nuances of her songs. If I'm a Level 3, Danny is a Level 5. He had recently discovered Discogs, an alternate universe popular with collectors looking for obscure, out of print vinyl.
Both Big Bird and Danny lived in Petaluma. She'd asked him a few times about carpooling to work.
' Let me get back to you.' He said.
That means no, but nicely, I thought.
Danny came in from logistics with a rack one morning, rockin a George Clooney haircut. Big Bird perked up, but didn't say a word. I notice that she's straight gazing.
Me: Nice haircut, Danny. ( Icebreaker! )
Danny: Thanks!
I'm dying inside observing Big Bird ( who always had something to say ) yet didn't say a word. Then I figured it out - Danny's the dude who asked her to the sock hop back in the day. The dreamboat Squiggy or the sharply dressed, charismatic 1960s pit boss.
In reality none of that is Danny. If he were an 80s punk band, he'd be the Dead Milkmen. In the 1990s, Danny would have been Weezer.
He's the polar opposite of Brian, another older millennial. Where Danny has humility and is genuinely kind to others, Brian was a pain in my ass with his earnest, anti-racist ally schtick.
Whenever the subject of race, East Bay, or Oakland culture came up, Brian had to prove that he knew what was up. He broadcast his opinions as Mr. Advanced Progressive, highly aware of the destructive forces in America that don't affect him.
I mention the massacre in Buffalo and how I retreated from the world for a few days. He showed me a program for a choir performance in tribute to the victims. Then he started dishing identity politics, which got a bit heated because the fuckin kid didn't have the capacity to listen.
' When I once worked for the census. ' He said. ' Some Hispanic people chose their race as white.' He said.
' Yeah,' I said. ' I put African-American on every government thing.'
' But that's a choice, right?'
' Uh...no, I'm black. Bi-racial was not a word I grew up with. Mixed kids were black.'
' But it's still a choice you're making to identify as black?'
This is that moment where my hood-adjacent imagination flips the table over and gets in his face like Della Reese in Harlem Nights:
' .... Did you just accuse me a-stealin?! We're gone settle this right now and fight outside! Get up and bring ya ass, nigga! Come on! Get up! Bring ya ass!’
Instead I sigh and say, in my mature lady tone:
' I exist in the world as a black woman.'
That shut his punk ass up. You got a comeback for that, homie?!
This not unusual in my experience. I can tell when someone has no direct experience with black people. Their perception is either filtered through the media or editorials written by white people about Martin Luther King and Maya Angelou.
Greg used to work for the CA Forestry Service, which meant Mr. Fit Man. He was also a phD who spent several years teaching philosophy in China. I can see being one or the other, but both? Damn. Greg was into his late 50s and could sprint effortlessly, while on the phone at the same time. I have a hard time keeping my phone in one hand just standing still. Greg would go awkward on me whenever I came into logistics or soft when I asked how his dad was doing. This is how the sensitive Gen X man reacts to a woman they find even remotely attractive - similar to the response they had if a girl talked to them in high school.
After a brief huddle, we went out in teams, each with someone from Elections and another from Parks and Rec. We were given a binder and a tote sack. Our mission objective: unlock the drop box - pull out the bin - collect ballots - cap and lock the drop box. You have 5 minutes. I had never trained in this before, but knew the county vote centers after having been on the wifi config team with IT a few years before.
I was partnered up with Luke, a young man originally from Australia, who lived in a tiny house on a ranch in west Marin. He told me he was a kite surfer who taught the sport in Thailand. His next expedition was to the northern coast of Brazil. What is the messaging here exactly? Does he think I’m Brazilian? I may ponder such internal questions when navigating the assumptions of men. Maybe they think I'll morph into some kind of sex force from the realm of ethnically ambiguous beauty.
Re-direct.
' So, were you named for Luke Skywalker?' I ask. ( I'm still waiting for someone to say YES! ).
There was some degree of anxiety since the June mid-term primary, when there were long lines and squabbles at vote centers. This round, there was high voter turnout in person, but nothing like the volume in June. The vote centers had run out of supplies and the back-up plan to collect ballots was re-routed from poll workers to elections.
' You look like a cop.' Yvonne said when she saw me in my too big neon yellow vest. Bruce strapped his on effortlessly, a perfect fit while he sat ready and waiting for action. Bruce came to California from Philly in the early 1970s. All he had to tell me was one of his favorite shows was the Allman Brothers at the Fillmore. Hippie!
The Bruce does not engage in small talk. The Bruce will tell it like it is. The Bruce is not a people person. Leave The Bruce alone unless you have something interesting or amusing to say. The Bruce knows every candidate, ballot measure, and proposition verbatim. Once you understand where he's coming from, The Bruce is pretty cool.
After returning with Luke Surfer Skywalker, we posted up to collect the incoming ballots from the county precincts. Four of us were set-up at four workstation scanners. The energy was high and between drops, we killed time with banter and jokes.
Me: Jenny, why didn't you tell me Gina had a meltdown at Caroline during the 1%? ( the 1% is a manual tabulation process ).
Jenny: I'm not gossiping about someone who's not here to defend herself.
Me: Defend herself for being an asshole? She went off on Caroline for being an immigrant. This is fact!
Jenny: Jesus. I can't believe they're still talking about that! Alright, so....( Jenny adjusted herself like she's going to lean in and give me the tea...then....)
Oh, I'm just a girl, my apologies
What I've become is so burdensome
Oh, I'm just a girl, lucky me
Tweedle-dum, there's no comparison
Oh, I've had it up to
oh, I've had it up to
oh, I've had it up to here
Danny came in from logistics with a rack one morning, rockin a George Clooney haircut. Big Bird perked up, but didn't say a word. I notice that she's straight gazing.
Me: Nice haircut, Danny. ( Icebreaker! )
Danny: Thanks!
I'm dying inside observing Big Bird ( who always had something to say ) yet didn't say a word. Then I figured it out - Danny's the dude who asked her to the sock hop back in the day. The dreamboat Squiggy or the sharply dressed, charismatic 1960s pit boss.
In reality none of that is Danny. If he were an 80s punk band, he'd be the Dead Milkmen. In the 1990s, Danny would have been Weezer.
He's the polar opposite of Brian, another older millennial. Where Danny has humility and is genuinely kind to others, Brian was a pain in my ass with his earnest, anti-racist ally schtick.
Whenever the subject of race, East Bay, or Oakland culture came up, Brian had to prove that he knew what was up. He broadcast his opinions as Mr. Advanced Progressive, highly aware of the destructive forces in America that don't affect him.
I mention the massacre in Buffalo and how I retreated from the world for a few days. He showed me a program for a choir performance in tribute to the victims. Then he started dishing identity politics, which got a bit heated because the fuckin kid didn't have the capacity to listen.
' When I once worked for the census. ' He said. ' Some Hispanic people chose their race as white.' He said.
' Yeah,' I said. ' I put African-American on every government thing.'
' But that's a choice, right?'
' Uh...no, I'm black. Bi-racial was not a word I grew up with. Mixed kids were black.'
' But it's still a choice you're making to identify as black?'
This is that moment where my hood-adjacent imagination flips the table over and gets in his face like Della Reese in Harlem Nights:
' .... Did you just accuse me a-stealin?! We're gone settle this right now and fight outside! Get up and bring ya ass, nigga! Come on! Get up! Bring ya ass!’
Instead I sigh and say, in my mature lady tone:
' I exist in the world as a black woman.'
That shut his punk ass up. You got a comeback for that, homie?!
This not unusual in my experience. I can tell when someone has no direct experience with black people. Their perception is either filtered through the media or editorials written by white people about Martin Luther King and Maya Angelou.
The energy with the team was a bit awkward after that. Big Bird leaned towards me and whispered sarcastically in her husky voice.
' We are now approaching the hostile work environment.' She mock-yawned with a pat to her mouth as though she was bored.
I laugh. Big Bird broke the tension....just like that. How sharp is she, I thought.
Brian, I would later learn, was a bit misguided and naive. He had a 21st century vocabulary. He always referred to his partner as immunocompromised, which meant his partner was NO FUN. I bet she taught him that word. I could tell she drove the bus in that relationship. He couldn't seem to tolerate being a person or missing the train by 5 minutes. Lost his house keys - distraught LOSER! His life had no meaning! He had studied math and robotics in college and worked as a middle school teacher, but Brian's true passion was - Sonoma County musical theater.
Brian didn't want to be a grunt in civil service or rehearsing the kids' holiday extravaganza. Brian wanted to be Sondheim on Broadway, mobbed by old white women theater fans.
I thought introducing him to Danny might give Brian a magical don't- try-so-hard vibe infusion. Danny learned that they grew up within blocks of one another in Petaluma and could have met in kindergarten.
Dude, that's awesome! Now, if you could please take him to logistics to geek out on the sorter and out of my face, that would be great.
Being that we are people and that I can be forgiving when I get over my disdain, I invited Brian to walk with me to the mailroom for a drop. This was my way of saying, it's cool, Brian. Just cut it talking about to me about race. You listen to yourself more than you listen to anyone else.
During our walk, he seemed a bit remorseful and demure. Hmmm. The Immunocompromised Partner probably gave him the woke millennial bitch slap: ' You were not creating a safe space for a woman of color to be heard! I'm going to tell everyone I don't know on Instagram! you literally are the worst white, misogynistic cis-man! No organic antioxidant tea for you tonight!'
Some shit like that.
As we circled the civic center, Brian told me his wrist was tight from the meticulous, repetitive handwork.
' Oh, that's not good.' I said, ' Wrap up what you're doing when we get back and stretch it out. If you still feel discomfort, just cut it for the day.'
Election day itself was uneventful as it got busier at the main office and a constant stream of ballots started to flow into logistics. The most exciting thing happened in the evening. The registrar put four of us on logistics to help collect ballots from drop boxes. At 7:00pm Greg got the call that something was wrong.
Greg ran logistics and had an impressively chill disposition whenever there was a glitch. He never lost his cool, which is a personality trait I do not inherently possess. I have to check myself to access it. Losing my own cool is like a conceptual art form.
I laugh. Big Bird broke the tension....just like that. How sharp is she, I thought.
Brian, I would later learn, was a bit misguided and naive. He had a 21st century vocabulary. He always referred to his partner as immunocompromised, which meant his partner was NO FUN. I bet she taught him that word. I could tell she drove the bus in that relationship. He couldn't seem to tolerate being a person or missing the train by 5 minutes. Lost his house keys - distraught LOSER! His life had no meaning! He had studied math and robotics in college and worked as a middle school teacher, but Brian's true passion was - Sonoma County musical theater.
Brian didn't want to be a grunt in civil service or rehearsing the kids' holiday extravaganza. Brian wanted to be Sondheim on Broadway, mobbed by old white women theater fans.
I thought introducing him to Danny might give Brian a magical don't- try-so-hard vibe infusion. Danny learned that they grew up within blocks of one another in Petaluma and could have met in kindergarten.
Dude, that's awesome! Now, if you could please take him to logistics to geek out on the sorter and out of my face, that would be great.
Being that we are people and that I can be forgiving when I get over my disdain, I invited Brian to walk with me to the mailroom for a drop. This was my way of saying, it's cool, Brian. Just cut it talking about to me about race. You listen to yourself more than you listen to anyone else.
During our walk, he seemed a bit remorseful and demure. Hmmm. The Immunocompromised Partner probably gave him the woke millennial bitch slap: ' You were not creating a safe space for a woman of color to be heard! I'm going to tell everyone I don't know on Instagram! you literally are the worst white, misogynistic cis-man! No organic antioxidant tea for you tonight!'
Some shit like that.
As we circled the civic center, Brian told me his wrist was tight from the meticulous, repetitive handwork.
' Oh, that's not good.' I said, ' Wrap up what you're doing when we get back and stretch it out. If you still feel discomfort, just cut it for the day.'
Election day itself was uneventful as it got busier at the main office and a constant stream of ballots started to flow into logistics. The most exciting thing happened in the evening. The registrar put four of us on logistics to help collect ballots from drop boxes. At 7:00pm Greg got the call that something was wrong.
Greg ran logistics and had an impressively chill disposition whenever there was a glitch. He never lost his cool, which is a personality trait I do not inherently possess. I have to check myself to access it. Losing my own cool is like a conceptual art form.
Greg used to work for the CA Forestry Service, which meant Mr. Fit Man. He was also a phD who spent several years teaching philosophy in China. I can see being one or the other, but both? Damn. Greg was into his late 50s and could sprint effortlessly, while on the phone at the same time. I have a hard time keeping my phone in one hand just standing still. Greg would go awkward on me whenever I came into logistics or soft when I asked how his dad was doing. This is how the sensitive Gen X man reacts to a woman they find even remotely attractive - similar to the response they had if a girl talked to them in high school.
After a brief huddle, we went out in teams, each with someone from Elections and another from Parks and Rec. We were given a binder and a tote sack. Our mission objective: unlock the drop box - pull out the bin - collect ballots - cap and lock the drop box. You have 5 minutes. I had never trained in this before, but knew the county vote centers after having been on the wifi config team with IT a few years before.
I was partnered up with Luke, a young man originally from Australia, who lived in a tiny house on a ranch in west Marin. He told me he was a kite surfer who taught the sport in Thailand. His next expedition was to the northern coast of Brazil. What is the messaging here exactly? Does he think I’m Brazilian? I may ponder such internal questions when navigating the assumptions of men. Maybe they think I'll morph into some kind of sex force from the realm of ethnically ambiguous beauty.
Re-direct.
' So, were you named for Luke Skywalker?' I ask. ( I'm still waiting for someone to say YES! ).
There was some degree of anxiety since the June mid-term primary, when there were long lines and squabbles at vote centers. This round, there was high voter turnout in person, but nothing like the volume in June. The vote centers had run out of supplies and the back-up plan to collect ballots was re-routed from poll workers to elections.
' You look like a cop.' Yvonne said when she saw me in my too big neon yellow vest. Bruce strapped his on effortlessly, a perfect fit while he sat ready and waiting for action. Bruce came to California from Philly in the early 1970s. All he had to tell me was one of his favorite shows was the Allman Brothers at the Fillmore. Hippie!
The Bruce does not engage in small talk. The Bruce will tell it like it is. The Bruce is not a people person. Leave The Bruce alone unless you have something interesting or amusing to say. The Bruce knows every candidate, ballot measure, and proposition verbatim. Once you understand where he's coming from, The Bruce is pretty cool.
After returning with Luke Surfer Skywalker, we posted up to collect the incoming ballots from the county precincts. Four of us were set-up at four workstation scanners. The energy was high and between drops, we killed time with banter and jokes.
Me: Jenny, why didn't you tell me Gina had a meltdown at Caroline during the 1%? ( the 1% is a manual tabulation process ).
Jenny: I'm not gossiping about someone who's not here to defend herself.
Me: Defend herself for being an asshole? She went off on Caroline for being an immigrant. This is fact!
Jenny: Jesus. I can't believe they're still talking about that! Alright, so....( Jenny adjusted herself like she's going to lean in and give me the tea...then....)
NO!
We both cracked up.
Me: I'm having an internal summer.
Sholeh: Hot flash again? Take your jacket off! Take it off!
Me: Sholeh, what's up with the harsh edicts? I'm not wearing a bra. That's not going to happen. Period. You're too hyped up for me. I'm going to go over there and support you from a distance.
Jenny and Janet howled with laughter.
I was posted up behind Sholeh as ballots arrived. After she processed each batch, I loaded them into bins for the next step ( counting and adjudication ). Once all the precincts were in, everyone began to wind down. The next day, Big Bird got her feathers in a bunch over Jenny.
Jenny is originally from Queens. Her husband had worked in DC politics and she worked with USAID as an international election observer. Jenny was once assigned to the Bosnia-Herzegovina war zone since she spoke Croatian. Listening to her, she enjoys going to off the grid to places entangled in civil war and instability. Looking at her, one would never assume that she's an Action Jackson passionate about justice and women's rights. Never judge a book, I say. She could be bigger bad ass than you.
During the 2020 presidential election, Jenny was the lead supervisor with me for about 30 other contract staff. After the primary, I was promoted to lead the phone team and worked in tandem with Jenny, Tony and IT, as a coordinator to get wifi set-up at the 20 county vote centers. It was hectic with the nuts work for months at the peak of the pandemic.
Jenny is awesome people, but she didn't have good leadership skill. Not everyone does. She was all over the place on her adrenaline junkie trip, driving me crazy with micro-managing antics and pestering me on weekends with texts. During that time, she had a squabble with Big Bird who cried in a fit of rage. I had already backed up from Jenny. I would respond, but not engage: Yes. No. Gotcha. Affirmative.
I have since forgiven Jenny, but Big Bird was still salty, several years later. Jenny brought an observer as we were breaking for lunch. She left the observer with Big Bird and they had a brief, casual chat. Later, the registrar came by and reminded us not to engage with observers, even in small talk. After hearing that, Big Bird blew her stack.
' It was that Jenny! Fuckin asshole! I'm pissed! I'm going to talk to her right now! The work had stopped and our lunch had started. I was just having a casual conversation. I was not talking about the work. I'll tell you exactly how it went down....' Big Bird then proceeded to stand up ( this takes her a minute ) to go start some shit. Instead she acted out the alleged interaction that lead to the perceived betrayal.
' Elections is like rad theater to me.' I said. ' Fascinating. Big Bird, simmer down! It was just a misunderstanding. I'm sure Lynda gave the same reminder to everyone.'
Big Bird sat back down, leaned towards me, and whispered. ' That Jenny is a snitch! I would take a hit for the team. I'm going to talk to her!'
We both cracked up.
Me: I'm having an internal summer.
Sholeh: Hot flash again? Take your jacket off! Take it off!
Me: Sholeh, what's up with the harsh edicts? I'm not wearing a bra. That's not going to happen. Period. You're too hyped up for me. I'm going to go over there and support you from a distance.
Jenny and Janet howled with laughter.
I was posted up behind Sholeh as ballots arrived. After she processed each batch, I loaded them into bins for the next step ( counting and adjudication ). Once all the precincts were in, everyone began to wind down. The next day, Big Bird got her feathers in a bunch over Jenny.
Jenny is originally from Queens. Her husband had worked in DC politics and she worked with USAID as an international election observer. Jenny was once assigned to the Bosnia-Herzegovina war zone since she spoke Croatian. Listening to her, she enjoys going to off the grid to places entangled in civil war and instability. Looking at her, one would never assume that she's an Action Jackson passionate about justice and women's rights. Never judge a book, I say. She could be bigger bad ass than you.
During the 2020 presidential election, Jenny was the lead supervisor with me for about 30 other contract staff. After the primary, I was promoted to lead the phone team and worked in tandem with Jenny, Tony and IT, as a coordinator to get wifi set-up at the 20 county vote centers. It was hectic with the nuts work for months at the peak of the pandemic.
Jenny is awesome people, but she didn't have good leadership skill. Not everyone does. She was all over the place on her adrenaline junkie trip, driving me crazy with micro-managing antics and pestering me on weekends with texts. During that time, she had a squabble with Big Bird who cried in a fit of rage. I had already backed up from Jenny. I would respond, but not engage: Yes. No. Gotcha. Affirmative.
I have since forgiven Jenny, but Big Bird was still salty, several years later. Jenny brought an observer as we were breaking for lunch. She left the observer with Big Bird and they had a brief, casual chat. Later, the registrar came by and reminded us not to engage with observers, even in small talk. After hearing that, Big Bird blew her stack.
' It was that Jenny! Fuckin asshole! I'm pissed! I'm going to talk to her right now! The work had stopped and our lunch had started. I was just having a casual conversation. I was not talking about the work. I'll tell you exactly how it went down....' Big Bird then proceeded to stand up ( this takes her a minute ) to go start some shit. Instead she acted out the alleged interaction that lead to the perceived betrayal.
' Elections is like rad theater to me.' I said. ' Fascinating. Big Bird, simmer down! It was just a misunderstanding. I'm sure Lynda gave the same reminder to everyone.'
Big Bird sat back down, leaned towards me, and whispered. ' That Jenny is a snitch! I would take a hit for the team. I'm going to talk to her!'
This never happens. Big Bird has a temper, but it's an 83 year old temper, which is a lot of shit talking and indignation until she runs out of steam. An actual confrontation, not so much. Big Bird is mostly bark and no bite.
' So...were you like this in your 30s?' I asked. I imagine the competitive Big Bird of youth, a 6 ft tall imposing figure coming at me in a roller derby match. Yikes! Intimidating! You see, Big Bird gets worked up as she responds to anxiety and fear. Her energy shifted whenever someone of authority or an observer entered the room; hyper-aware of their presence. She got so anxious whenever she saw Jenny and an observer approach the count room, she forgot where her chime stick was. I thought the chime is reductive; a tool of oppression for school children. I tried to be proactive and gauge Big Bird before she went hard on her 1970s classroom chime.
By the end of the day, Big Bird chilled out. The next morning she had a sit down with the registrar to voice her grievance. After that, Jenny started introducing Big Bird directly to observers as the team lead. Jenny is a Gen Xer who prefers to collaborate with dynamic women of color in the now, as opposed to the dynamic white women of the past. Acknowledgement was all Big Bird needed.
Juanita was a rookie who had recently retired from working in IT. She started in the phone bank with Sholeh and after Election Day, she joined the Extractors. After inspecting ballots with us for hours, I could see she was in discomfort as the day went on. She was fighting something and afraid to tell anyone.
‘ Are you okay?’ I asked. ‘ As women we need to take care of ourselves. We do a lot with all the work and caring. If the work is hurting you, then stop.’
The next morning Juanita talked to the registrar. She told me she had had breast cancer and after a recent procedure had developed an infection, the pain of which was exacerbated by lifting and handling ballots. She had been struggling with an overloaded by an ageing population Kaiser system to schedule yet another procedure. Juanita had been holding all of that in her body.
‘ I’m not weak! ‘ She said. ‘ I just can’t do all of that right now. I thought about what you said about us taking care of ourselves.’
Juanita broke through and shifted to working with a colleague on a more low impact project. She got her appointments scheduled with Kaiser and support from family to back her up. I brought her flowers on her last day. Whenever I passed Jenny in the hustle and flow of things, she smiled at me like she was in love.
Dude, what are you trippin on?!
Jenny was giving me her feminist solidarity face. I appreciated that. I am not playing with America and how older women are expected to work and hustle to death while fretting over our ageing body parts, healthcare, and men. Fuck all of that.
' So...were you like this in your 30s?' I asked. I imagine the competitive Big Bird of youth, a 6 ft tall imposing figure coming at me in a roller derby match. Yikes! Intimidating! You see, Big Bird gets worked up as she responds to anxiety and fear. Her energy shifted whenever someone of authority or an observer entered the room; hyper-aware of their presence. She got so anxious whenever she saw Jenny and an observer approach the count room, she forgot where her chime stick was. I thought the chime is reductive; a tool of oppression for school children. I tried to be proactive and gauge Big Bird before she went hard on her 1970s classroom chime.
By the end of the day, Big Bird chilled out. The next morning she had a sit down with the registrar to voice her grievance. After that, Jenny started introducing Big Bird directly to observers as the team lead. Jenny is a Gen Xer who prefers to collaborate with dynamic women of color in the now, as opposed to the dynamic white women of the past. Acknowledgement was all Big Bird needed.
Juanita was a rookie who had recently retired from working in IT. She started in the phone bank with Sholeh and after Election Day, she joined the Extractors. After inspecting ballots with us for hours, I could see she was in discomfort as the day went on. She was fighting something and afraid to tell anyone.
‘ Are you okay?’ I asked. ‘ As women we need to take care of ourselves. We do a lot with all the work and caring. If the work is hurting you, then stop.’
The next morning Juanita talked to the registrar. She told me she had had breast cancer and after a recent procedure had developed an infection, the pain of which was exacerbated by lifting and handling ballots. She had been struggling with an overloaded by an ageing population Kaiser system to schedule yet another procedure. Juanita had been holding all of that in her body.
‘ I’m not weak! ‘ She said. ‘ I just can’t do all of that right now. I thought about what you said about us taking care of ourselves.’
Juanita broke through and shifted to working with a colleague on a more low impact project. She got her appointments scheduled with Kaiser and support from family to back her up. I brought her flowers on her last day. Whenever I passed Jenny in the hustle and flow of things, she smiled at me like she was in love.
Dude, what are you trippin on?!
Jenny was giving me her feminist solidarity face. I appreciated that. I am not playing with America and how older women are expected to work and hustle to death while fretting over our ageing body parts, healthcare, and men. Fuck all of that.
Love, the live and rest activist.
Oh, I'm just a girl, my apologies
What I've become is so burdensome
Oh, I'm just a girl, lucky me
Tweedle-dum, there's no comparison
Oh, I've had it up to
oh, I've had it up to
oh, I've had it up to here
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