This whole caucus thing is a novelty for me. I grew up in California, a state that votes via a primary. When it was election time, I either mailed in my ballot or voted privately at a polling place. The idea of meeting with the neighbors to talk or debate politics seems so foreign, so...Iowan.
Then I moved to the state of Washington where caucuses are the thing. My curiosity was piqued, so in 2008 when it was Clinton vs. Obama, I attended my first caucus. We all know how that turned out. Heated at times, but still fascinating to me, the newbie.
In March, 2016 I attended the Democratic caucus, but this time it seemed drawn out and disorganized. Voters who showed up early on that Saturday of Easter weekend couldn't get their votes counted unless they stayed till the end, which was a couple hours later. Others who showed up late tossed their voting sheets on the table and significantly changed the outcome. There was a lot of waiting around and reading of rules. Those who made brief speeches for their candidates went long. Those of us who were Caucus Captains documented the results of our precinct. I truly enjoyed meeting my neighbors and talking politics. But I thought if this is what democracy looks like, we could use a makeover. (I read later in the Seattle Times that less than 6% of the voting population participated.)
In the end, I was elected to become a delegate for the next step in the process. This brings me to the real story: the 34th Legislative District Caucus. (Why is that word so fun to say?)
A Perfect Spring Day
April 17 was a gorgeous day in West Seattle, one of those rare ones where you see people's white legs and liberated toes from months of winter coverage. Yet here were hundreds of people streaming into West Seattle High School. The goal? To spend a few hours electing delegates to go to the next round of many rounds of the state primary system.
The hallways were buzzing. I found my name on the sign-in sheet and retrieved my voting credentials that confirmed I was a delegate for Hillary Clinton. I decided to pop on a sticker just to be counted, although looking around at the "Feel the Bern" parade, I was clearly in the minority. This was way more of a love fest for Bernie with t-shirts, buttons, banners, and hats everywhere you looked. I had even seen a car with "Bernie 2016" painted on its sides.
At one point I thought it'd be exciting to go to all levels of the Washington caucus system: the King County Convention, the 7th Congressional District Caucus, the Washington State Convention, and the big National Convention in Philadelphia. It would be historic! Plus, I could visit my in-laws back east. But then I saw a very long line for those who wanted to give a speech and be elected as a delegate for the next step. They wanted it more than me, so I decided that this sunny day would complete my Democratic primary duty.
After talking to some of my neighbors from the previous caucus, I found a seat in the gymnasium bleachers around 1 p.m. I'd read that this could take up to four hours, so clutching my Kombucha drink, I summoned my patience and settled in. As the bleachers filled up, spontaneous chants broke out. "Bernie! Bernie" boomed from one side. "Hillary! Hillary" was chanted in response. I was catapulted back to second grade where we were lined up in a game of Red Rover, Red Rover, send Rebecca on over. This did not please me. I thought there was no way the Bernie supporters would let any of the Hillary supporters through their fortified line.
I joked to my unstickered neighbor that we should play a game of dodge ball to decide on who gets delegates. She didn't laugh.
Finally, our caucus Chair used her gavel to call the meeting to order. When people would occasionally yell something, she would bang that thing and insist on being called "Madam Chair." In order to seat delegates, alternates, and elect various roles for this fun fest, there were a several items in the agenda to work through. An overview:
The Waiting Game
Things started to get interesting when it was time to hear speeches for both candidates Hillary and Bernie. The volunteers working at the Hillary table had asked an avid supporter if she would speak on the candidate's behalf. So she did. She cited Hillary's biography and talked about being a survivor of abuse and a mom of four kids, one gay. She said politics is how we get things done in this country and underscored why she supported Hillary. The Bernie folks weren't too enthused. Why would they be? At this point, we'd already cast our votes in one caucus so it was unlikely any person would be swayed.
Now it was time for someone to speak on behalf of Bernie. Only, the person hand-picked by the Sanders campaign hadn't shown up. So we waited. And waited. When it was clear that this person wasn't just tardy, but really, really late, things started to turn. The microphone in the center of the floor attracted a whole line of frustrated caucusers. A few had to be schooled in how to speak to Madam Chair. When others made a motion to have someone else make the speech, someone present, they got rowdy applause. Makes sense, right? Wrong. The Sanders campaign had explicitly asked that this one person speak, and that person we learned was Washington's own Senator Pramila Jayapal. She's one of the few people Bernie is endorsing for Congress, and according to the Chair, we needed to keep waiting.
Therein began the quick descent into satire. I felt like I was witnessing an episode of Parks and Recreation where Amy Poehler's character Leslie Knope is earnestly trying to do her job, but is harassed by annoyed and annoying attendees.
While we waited, I researched online about this elusive spokesperson. Jayapal was a first-term Washington State Senator who focused on some of the same issues as Bernie. She had also just initiated a first-ever state review of racist geographic names. True story.
No matter how many times the angry natives took to the microphone and asked for an alternative to this one speaker, the Chair said sorry, the campaign had made its pick. Most angry folks, by the way, were Bernie supporters, so imagine how annoyed we Hillary supporters were at having to wait so long.
Ms. Jayapal finally showed up after 4 p.m. She delivered an excellent speech, clear and thorough--not surprising as she's running for US Congress. She spoke of familiar issues like income inequality and social justice. It would've been hard to find a Democrat in the room who didn't appreciate her point of view. Any mention of Bernie got huge cheers. The cheers were more tepid, however, when she talked about electing a Democratic no matter what.
Hot and Bothered
When it was time to pick alternates, more people took to the microphone in protest of one thing or another. Vashon Island's delegates were disqualified for they'd done something wrong. Shouts of "Not without Vashon!" emanated from the peanut gallery. Others wanted to follow the rules and move along. (The disqualification was explained in this post.)
By now, several hours had passed and many were fanning themselves like churchgoers on a hot Georgia day. The Zeeks pizza guy showed up and gave me a serious craving for a slice of happiness amidst all this rancor and wasted time.
When agenda items were being trudged through, admittedly I drifted away like a character in Charlie Brown who heard adult speak like muffled murmurs. It's not that I didn't want to learn, it's just that the heat, hunger, and fatigue had made my ears less proficient. And I really would have rather been hiking outside.
A Bernie supporter seated in front of me looked continuously at her Facebook feed on her huge phablet. So huge that I could see exactly how she reacted to every post. Bernie posts got her finger to press a Like, Heart or Wow. Posts about anyone named Clinton got the Angry emoji.
There were yet more things to tend to, like electing a permanent Chair for this caucus. Apparently the gavel-wielding madam was just temporary. Some people didn't like how this vote was conducted so the angst meter rose even more. All of this was getting in the way of actually voting for the delegates, the main reason we were all there. Just then a Bernie supporter next to me had a cute voice boom out of her iPhone: "It's time for jumping jacks!" She tried desperately to turn off her phone's exercise app, but I couldn't stop laughing. Jumping jacks sounded pretty good right about then. The Chair called a five-minute recess.
I decided to wander the courtyard in search of some sunshine. Many walked around, some scanning you to see if you were part of their stickered tribe. As the substance of this event seemed muddled, I decided to focus on style. I was taken by the variety of political bling. If the vote had been taken on originality alone, Bernie supporters would have won on the first ballot. I anointed them Bernie's Bedazzled.
The Bedazzled
Who doesn't love unicorns?
All the news that's fit to wear.
Chest to chest (photo by Alice Wheeler)
And so many more Bern Feelers...
The beautiful thing was that even though Hillary and Bernie supporters were demonstrating different flair, neighbors were smiling and talking, hugging and venting. We were in this cluster bucket together.
(photo by Alice Wheeler)
(photo by Alice Wheeler)
As kind people let me document their outfits, I decided to engage in conversation. Isn't that the point of a caucus? I asked someone what he liked about Bernie. Mind you, I still had a Hillary sticker on, wilting though it was. He showed passion for the issue of income inequality. When I asked him what he knew of Hillary's record he condemned her because she makes a lot of money, as does her staff, she's buddies with Kissinger, and he could never ever vote for her. When I tried to cite things from her record like the Children's Health Insurance program, gun control, and alignment with Obama on climate change and other things, he dug in deeper. The conversation got a little louder and attracted others to circle around us. In my earnest but not always artful attempt at logic, I was countered with "Obama's not a liberal!" and "She's bribing the super delegates!" When I asked about Bernie's effectiveness in the Senate, I was told he was the "Amendment King." When I asked what those amendments were, you could hear crickets. Gladly, I met one Bernie supporter who said that she would vote for Hillary in the general, because she saw a Republican alternative as devastating for those less fortunate.
Class was back in session, so I shook hands and went returned to the gym. Bernie was to get 27 delegates, Hillary 11 plus alternates. Now it was finally time to hear the speeches and vote for delegates! We split into sub-caucus groups.
We Hillary supporters got the really comfy seats in the school theater, while the Bernie supporters stayed in the now sweaty gym. It felt like we'd escaped to our own clubhouse where we could sit and relax and just get on with the conversation we'd wanted to have for hours. By now, it was 6pm and a lot of us wanted this madness to end.
The guy next to me shared what he was texting his friend: "Bernie is the guy who comes to your party, brings no beer and wants to change the music." Comic relief was welcome.
While we were allotted 11 delegates, over 40 women and 40 men wanted that honor. So we agreed quickly on who would chair this voting, be the secretary and the timekeeper. We even reduced the speech time to 20 seconds from three minutes. The ballots came to us hot off the printer and we quickly acquired or shared writing utensils. Efficiency wafted over us like a breath of fresh air.
America's Got Delegates
The hopeful delegates lined up on stage by gender and ballot number so that no time would be wasted after their brief pitches. The rest of us sat intently, like judges in America's Got Delegates and cast our votes: 5 for men, 5 for women, and 1 extra to make the final tally exactly 11.
The speeches were quick, heartfelt, and often effective. I voted for the guy who likened this whole show to "speed dating." I also voted for those who spoke not only about supporting Hillary every step of the way, but also bridging the gap with Bernie supporters.
We were told that while our team was wrapping up, the elected delegates would have to stay until the Bernie side cast their votes. We all learned quickly that in the last hour, the Bernie folks hadn't even printed their ballots. Hordes of annoyed people waited at one microphone in the gym to speak. At least 290 people would need to stick around for the entire time or this whole messy affair would be for naught. Luckily, I was excused. (I read later that this affair went on for hours; one person tweeted that they didn't convene until close to 1:30am! I also read in the Seattle Times that some Bernie Sanders backers suspected the party was waiting for them to leave to swing delegates to Hillary Clinton. I'm not making that up.)
I walked out particularly quickly to salvage what was left of this gorgeous night. On my drive home, exasperated by this day, I felt strongly that a primary system would be far better. More people could and would participate. I also tried to suck up this caucus craziness as what was needed to get a Democrat elected this year. Just then, I saw something you never see in these parts: an Iowa license plate. It had "Clinton" on it.
While I don't believe in unicorns anymore, I took this as a symbol that the Democrats might, just might, unify behind the presumptive nominee. And with that, I arrived home and joined my husband for a glass of wine at sunset.
Rebecca Kraus is a content strategist and creative consultant. After working in entertainment journalism and games design in Los Angeles, she moved to Seattle seeking new adventures. For a whole host of businesses, she writes branded copy, provides digital strategies, and helps develop products. She also blogs about parenting, politics, food, and frivolity.
You can often find her playing in her backyard garden of eatin' and hitting the trails with her family. Visit: www.rebeccakraus.com.