He didn't stand a chance

If I made friends with a maybe Trumper, and you can too

Over the weekend I canvassed for Kamala Harris, knocking on doors of registered Democrats, which in 2024 does not mean you will be met with big hugs and high fives. Going into this, I did not have a plan for what to do if I found myself knocking on a door with an angry old white man behind it. This might seem like an oversight, but shockingly I am still optimistic about human beings so when it happened, I had to improvise.

This is the true story of our interaction and what I learned. I may have forgotten some of the facts because of how much I’ve had to drink over the past week (this election, AM I RIGHT), perimenopause, or general exhaustion fueled by the dumpster fire of a world we navigate on a daily basis.

Note: The beginning of this exchange must be read with upspeak—that rising intonation at the end of a sentence that makes a declarative sentence sound like a question. This is how we disarm men—we make them think we’re nice, insecure, and uncertain about the world around us. Then shift to some hot bish energy because you have to show them you’re clever and cute.

Me, in 2020. Some things never change.

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Knock. Knock.

Hiiiiiiii! I’m Jen, your neighbor. I live right up the street. I’m here to see if you’ve voted yet.

Angry look. Slight roll of eyes. Turns around momentarily and by the look of the back of his head I might have woken him from his afternoon nap.

Did you know that once you vote, it registers in the system and we stop knocking on your door? (Give them a way to solve the problem.)

Closes screen door to show no soliciting sign. Says words I don’t remember because I wasn’t listening in an act of self-preservation.

I get it. I haven’t voted either. Perhaps we both take care of that this week so we’re less annoyed with this shit. (Four-letter words are imperative to show that you’re anti-establishment too. Raise eyebrows and smirk to throw them off guard, as they couldn’t have imagined you’re both cute and clever.)

In an attempted GOTCHA moment, shifts the conversation to the 40-unit affordable housing project proposed for the lot around the corner.

Tell me about it. I’ve had enough of these developers making money hand over fist while the rest of us have to deal with their poor planning and general incompetence. It’s not the renters’ fault if they don’t have anywhere to park—the developers and the city need to be on that. (Commiserate about your shared distaste of the wealth gap all the while knowing to keep TAX THE RICH to yourself or you’ll blow your cover.)

Second attempted GOTCHA moment when he remembers I’m his neighbor but thinks I’m richer than him because I live on the west side of Arlington Ave.

Shit, I don’t own anything. I’m a renter too. (Make sure you laugh afterward because you don’t want them to think you want their pity. Since the economy is one of the biggest issues of the election don’t ignore the issues that matter to other people.)

Curiosity piqued. Questions how this is possible.

I’m a small business owner trying to make it happen. No one around to pay my rent but me. (Raise eyebrows in an effort to convey that you know how it feels to be him. And leave them guessing—is it that I am cat-owning-don’t-need-a-man-rad-fem or am I pull-myself-up-by-my-bootstraps-young-lady-out-there-hustling? NO ONE KNOWS if they don’t follow you on Instagram or read your newsletters so LET IT SIMMER.)

Smiles.

So you’re going to vote this week then? (Back to the upspeak.)

Annoyed. But agrees.

Cool, I guess I won’t be seeing you again then. Have a good night! (Shift back to hot bish. Wink. Laugh at your own joke. Walk away because your work is done and you don’t need to push your luck.)

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I know what you’re thinking. Although this man was a registered Democrat, what’s stopping him from voting for Trump? Nothing. But somewhere in his life, he identified with a party that despite everything that infuriates me about them—including Harris’s refusal to hold Israel accountable for the genocide in Gaza—will do more to preserve and protect our rights. If we don’t have rights, we can’t fight. So you’ll find me knocking on doors again before Tuesday, and I kept my promise—I voted for Kamala Harris this week, and I hope you will too.