You're right - you don't know me. We've only had a few conversations. So here: A few allegories - stories from my past - parables, if you will....
When I was in high school I was well-known, but not well-liked. I heard a lot of "she's book smart, but not street smart". At one point during these "best years of my life", a group of students blocked the hallway by the stairs each day in order to purposely make me late for class. Not one of the boys in my own school dated me. My brother teased me mercilessly and called me "whale". I weighed a whopping 130 lbs. I remember overhearing a group of girls talking about me and saying, "If she ever took drugs, I bet she'd be normal." Another time, an older girl convinced me that a boy had a crush on me but that he was shy and I should make the first move. He rejected me publicly and they all laughed. It was part of the game. But I worked hard. I earned good grades. I told myself I didn't care about popularity. I only had to be happy, and my happiness would never come at the expense of others. I could gain satisfaction from a job well done, and that would be enough. Looking back, those are conservative ideals. I work hard for what I get, and I get what I work for. Nothing was handed to me. Except, in reality, it was. In reality, a lot of the scholarships and grants I got for school WERE handed to me. And I was privileged, if not with money, then in having two parents who were madly in love. Having two parents who were high school sweethearts with ten acres of land, where I could spend my childhood building tree forts instead of dodging bullets. I had a lot of bad experiences in school, but my home life more than made up for it, and all in all I could say that I had a happy childhood, and living here was a big part of that.
Fast forward, and I've graduated high school and am working at OIP as a waitress. I am in college at Mansfield, waiting tables on weekends and holidays, and a local police officer comes in with his family. He was one of my best customers but I hadn't seen him in months. I ask him why he hasn't been in for a while and he said that he didn't like the pizza boy - he mentioned him by name. That kid had only worked there a week and hadn't been in there since, but the customer wouldn't know that, because he also hadn't been in there since. Likewise, I bumped into a stranger while still in my OIP shirt and she said, "Oh, I love the food there but this one time it took over an hour and it was just too much. I'll never go back." Both of those people formed strong negative opinions based on a single experience. I never wanted to do that. When I went through a bad breakup, I told my best friend, "I don't hate all men with beards, or all men born in February, just because I had some bad experiences with guys like that." I vowed to never be that judgemental.
Fast forward again - I'm married and working at Sweden Valley Manor. Well, technically married. I'm in the process of divorce. My oldest son is 5 years old, the youngest is still nursing, and my husband has just left me - run off with the 23-year-old babysitter. My oldest son has just been diagnosed with multiple mental disabilities (Autism, Mentally Retarded, ADHD, seizure disorder), they're telling me that my daughter probably has Autism, too (a diagnosis that they later took back, she was just delayed), and I'm trying to hold down a job but it's hard to find a babysitter qualified to work with a special needs child (or 2) but willing to watch the kids on weekends at 7am. The state has a program in place to find qualified sitters and day care centers. They said there's a center "near me" and I can get grant money to help pay for it. It's not near me. It's over an hour each way. People ask why my mom can't watch the kids - she died eight months before. Why not my dad? He's working full time at Pure Carbon. I switch to part time, so I can take the kids to Alliance Day Care. But I can't work weekends or holidays. I lose my medical benefits. I lose my paid vacation days. I lose half my income. I apply for child support and am ordered to receive a whopping $55/month. I don't want to apply for welfare because of the stigma, because I want to give a good example for my children, because I want them to see a mom who still works hard for everything she's got. but begrudgingly, I do so, because not having my children die of malnutrition and lack of medical care is more important than my ingrained Republican Rural Pride. My brother-in-law convinces me that it's the right thing to do. I apply, and a woman at the local welfare office asks me if all 3 kids have the same dad. I get it. My first-born looks like a carbon copy of his father but my youngest takes after my side of the family. In other words, my oldest is dark, and my youngest is glaringly white. It stings, because my ex is the one who cheated, and later I can't help but remember that time that he had asked if we could move back down south, where he would encounter less racism. I'm going to repeat that. He wanted to move SOUTH, because he encountered LESS racism living outside Pittsburgh than he did in Coudersport. When I tell my boss that I need an unexpected morning off because that's when they'd scheduled my interview for SSI, she scoffed and said - to my face - "I've MET your son. He's not disabled." A few two-minute interactions does not constitute knowing someone. In the course of a few months, I've had my first run-in with governmental racism, I've had my first exposure to the bigotry and judgement that comes with applying for welfare, and I've experienced the first bit of judgement that I'm one of 'them'. The lazy, good-for-nothing people who just wants a handout.
Fast-forward one last time. It's 2016 and I'm coming back from a week at the beach. I've seen your facebook pics of your Carribean cruise, your posts that you've seen the latest movies, the pics of your daughters attending concerts and your sons on roller coasters. My kids wanted LegoLand in FL. I had less than $200 for vacation. I told them LegoLand could wait until my youngest was taller. Instead, I took them tent-camping in upstate NY for 3 days, and then tent-camping to a state park in DE for 5. I spent less in a week than I would in one day at a theme park, but still my budget is stretched to the limit. But at least they got a vacation. They got to see a bit more of the world. My oldest son's birthday is the next week and I'm passing by a point where I'll only be an hour away from my ex and his mother. I call and arrange a visit - go an hour out of my way each way, and specifically tell my ex what Andrew wants for his birthday. The only thing he wants is a copy of Zootopia - out on DVD a few weeks before. He's already seen it because a good friend had gotten it on DVD, and let us all watch it at her house. We had to rent a local campsite and spend an extra $30 but it's worth it because the kids haven't seen their dad in over a year. He hasn't sent so much as a 30 cent card in at least five years. I'm not even sure if he knows when the kids' birthdays are. But his mother does. She loves the kids, calls and talks to them, sends them gifts. So we go. And he buys the DVD and watches it with the kids. Part-way through, as I'm telling him about a part that I like, he tells me, "I know. I saw it in the theater." It didn't register at the time. Two weeks later, in a pre-scheduled court hearing about his child support, he asks for a decrease because he's "saving up to buy a car". This is when I remember that he'd already seen Zootopia. In the theater. If you are a single, grown man, spending money to see a Disney movie without your kids, then you don't understand the meaning of the word "saving". But I'm at the point in my life where I don't live for his approval. I work hard, and I am relatively happy, and it is family that makes me happy. My dad, my kids, my siblings, my grandma, my aunt. It should be enough.
And yet, it isn't. Because this is 2016. Because the same year that I commend Coudersport on its acceptance and kind treatment of my disabled son, I also find myself repeatedly confronted with open and public bigotry. I have former classmates and coworkers who were always kind to me, posting memes filled with opponent-bashing rhetoric. So now, you ask me why I dislike Donald Trump. Because I've seen and overheard far, far too much bigotry and hatred in my life. Because "a leopard doesn't change his spots." Because the KIND of man who would mock a reporter with disabilities, the KIND of man who would deny asylum to refugees and would desire to halt immigration, the KIND of man who says, "I'm not racist. The blacks love me." without realizing how racist that is... The kind of man who, yes, donates, but has to be told to do so... That's the same kind of person who assumes that my kids have different dads because of their skin tone, who assumes that Andrew's not disabled because they've seen him on a good day - or worse, that none of "those" kids are really disabled. They just need more discipline. They just need a good whoopin.
Yes, I have become the customer who stays away even though that particular pizza cook is long gone. Yes, I have become a person who says, "Never Trump", and means it. But it wasn't just one bad experience that put me in that place. It was many. And no, Donald Trump himself is not the cause of my bad experiences. But Barack Obama is not the cause of yours. And yet, there's been so much local hate for the man. Why? Because he's a Democrat? A Liberal? There were insinuations during his campaign that he was *gasp* a Muslim. (Not true, but it didn't stop the rumors) Well so the fuck what if he was? Kennedy was Catholic, and there were whispered insinuations that if he was elected, he would turn control over to the Pope. Do you know what I overheard in 2008? In Potter County? "I'm not worried. Someone will assassinate that N- before the year is out." The exact same people who insist that I need to get a full-time job and work for a living (without bothering to listen when I say that I have one already) are the same staunch Republicans who block congressional consideration of Barack Obama's supreme court nominee. Ironically, the same congress who tells me to get a job was refusing to do theirs.
So listen, there is statistically no chance that I will ever, in my entire life, meet one of the presidential candidates face-to-face. There is statistically no chance that my single vote will change the outcome of this election, or any election on a federal level. (See link https://fee.org/articles/how-not-to-waste-your-vote-a-mathematical-analysis/ )
But I don't need a reporter to tell me that the outcome of this election won't just be a president. The campaign in and of itself is changing America ( http://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/14/opinion/sunday/donald-trump-is-making-america-meaner.html?_r=0 ) You talk about research. I CANNOT research Trump the same way I would research Hilary Clinton or Gary Johnson, and form an opinion based on previous political experience, because he doesn't have any. So not having met any of the candidates in person, not having any political background for me to fact-check, what am I left with? A mound of hateful rhetoric and verbal attacks on anyone who isn't just like him. On people like me. On people like my son.
You ask me why. Because 8 years ago, I became one of "them". When I sat in the breakroom at the manor, and people talked about "all those people on welfare", when one particular aide used the word "retarded" over, and over and over... when I would speak up, they were always quick to say, "Well I wasn't talking about you." or "I didn't mean it like that." I could have kept silent. Speaking up didn't change anything. They had the same conversations again and again, and that same aide continued to use the R-word. I could stay silent now, because despite your claims of open-minded-ness, you will not change your mind, and mathematically speaking, it doesn't really matter who you vote for. Neither will Mr. Majot (although I have daydreamed about going all Martin Luthor and nailing my thesis to his sign), nor those who have covered their lawns with "Hilary for Prison 2016". I don't speak up for your benefit, because you won't change your mind. I don't speak up for my benefit, because this only garners more unwanted attention. I just want to live my life, love my kids, give them the same happy PoCo childhood I had. So my daughter's in scouts. My son's in the choir. My youngest plays T-ball. I go on FB once a day and chat with friends.
The town that I love - the one I want to give my kids - is the town that comes together in times of need. It's the town that gives whatever it has when someone's house burns down, or someone's got cancer, or someone was in a bad motorcycle accident. It's a town that supports and cares for all of its citizens, but none more so than the ones who are most in need. I've seen that town. I've had a spattering few bad experiences, where I've encountered bigotry and wrong assumptions, but then somehow, the SHtF last year, and I've seen old friends and new friends alike who take the other side - who, when prompted with the headline 'Gov Wolf announces that PA will accept Syrian Refugees' - respond with 'Better get my shotgun ready.'
My vote, your vote, they don't matter mathematically. Not in this election. But our words matter. Our behaviors matter. Our beliefs and our actions can change this town for the better. I speak up for the same reason I work 40 hours a week. I speak up for the same reason I signed up for welfare despite my pride. I do it all out of love for my children. Nothing more, nothing less. I have a voice, and they do not. And if they could speak, with their brown skin and their disabilities and their free healthcare, who in Trump's America would listen?
