A few weeks ago, there was a demonstration scheduled for Net Neutrality at the St. Paul office of U.S. Senator Tina Smith. On a whim, I signed up for it the day before, thinking I needed some kind of activity and socialization beyond the usual combination of muted TV and podcasts or YouTube videos that fill my weeknights.
The office was easy to get to from my job in Inver Grove Heights. It's in that weirdly under-developed area south of downtown St. Paul (which I described in my last essay). It’s easy to miss because the building says “Drake” on top, as in Drake Bank, which dominates the first floor. There’s also a sign that says “Private Property” at the entrance to the parking lot. Not a very welcoming sight for a U.S. senator’s office.
The weather was not encouraging either. It was grey and wet, a soggy end to the first day of the year that approached 80°. I got there at 5, but the demo wasn’t supposed to start until 5:30, so I sat in my car eating trail mix. A few people came out to their cars, apparently done with the working day. One woman gave me a side-long glance, seemingly unnerved by my presence. I can’t say I blame her. If I saw a guy sitting in his car eating trail mix, I’d probably be unnerved too.
After 10 minutes of that, I got out and went inside. There was a woman vacuuming the 1st floor and another one vacuuming the 2nd. I walked by the senator’s office on the 2nd floor. It looked like you needed a badge or something to get in the lobby. The reception desk was enclosed in glass like a box office or bank teller, with a speaker for talking to the receptionist. It seemed a little like overkill on the security, but they’ve probably gotten their share of crazies.
I continued down the hall to the exit, which took me to the stairs, which led me outside. Disappointed, I went back around to the front and re-entered, hoping not to look like a crazy person to the cleaning personnel. Back on the 2nd floor, I sat down in one of the big, comfy chairs in the hall and waited for my fellow activists.
Some of the senator’s staff left while I was waiting. They were young and mostly female. I looked up as they passed, but they didn’t make eye contact. I tried to keep my resentment in check, but it boiled up a bit. Here they were, young, idealistic go-getters, no doubt, and they couldn’t even deign to look me in the eye.
I know that fear of strangers well, but in the moment it felt insulting. They probably have to deal with a lot of angry people on the phone and maybe even in person. At the time, though, that didn't ease my annoyance. I was thinking more about how they're working to keep the world safe for "democracy" (a.k.a. Big Business).
These are supposed to be our best and brightest, and they’re scared of a chill dude dressed in business casual? I’m pretty sure I didn’t have that grim look I often get. I was wearing a long raincoat, but that shouldn’t have been too alarming. It was raining, after all. Of course, they were off the clock at that point, so they may not have wanted to deal with any more opinionated folks that day.
Two activists showed up at 5:30 and sat down with me. They were also White, a guy in his 20’s, I’m guessing, and a woman who may’ve been in her 40’s. The guy had strong opinions which he shared in a studiously casual tone. The woman was more reserved, letting the guy spout off in between swigs of Mountain Dew.
“This may be an unpopular opinion,” he began. “But I don’t think Israel should exist. At least not in its current state.” I actually agreed with most of what he said, but his rhetoric was so casually violent that I felt the need to chime in with some friendly dampeners. He thought Ajit Pai, the FCC chair, should be assassinated.
The main difference between me and him was style. I’ve learned to temper my rhetoric. He seemed to be in the throes of the anger that precipitated the political awakening of my late 20’s. I’m still often seized by the wish to see the people that he named dead, but now I’m at least smart enough not to say so in front of strangers.
However, the young man's frankness was a welcome contrast from the rest of us, who were typically Minnesotan in our reserve.
Another woman showed up later. She was actually employed by a political group, but even she didn't know what the plan was. While we were talking, the last 4 workers in the senator's office turned off the lights and quietly filed past us. The professional activist said “hi,” but none of us had the guts to try and strike up a conversation.
As we left, the professional took our phone numbers in the hope of meeting up to discuss our political interests. Once we were outside, we ran into 2 women who'd also been involved in the "demonstration." They had thank-you cards for the Minnesota senators, since they've both supported Net Neutrality.
We wrote down our contact info for one of them. The other had a sign with the “Don’t Tread on Me” flag design on it. The coiled snake was made of a phone cable.
I became quite confident when I saw their awkwardness. I thought, “Compared to these people, I’m fucking George Clooney!” It gave me a lot of confidence to get involved and be the public face of something.
Left-wing political organizing seems short on charisma. I suppose that’s just as well. We don’t want anyone accumulating too much power. No one should be bigger than the movement (although I wouldn't mind getting a little ego boost off of it).
