You Can’t Be Serious(61)
“Seriously, Kal. Will he?”
Oh, this guy was actually worried.
Flashbacks to “so you’re not even Latin” flooded my brain. I wanted to go off on this Hollywood liberal, but I could tell it was a pivotal moment in his political life (one that could benefit the guy I was working for if I handled it right), so I dialed back my disappointment and instead told him about meeting Rohan, Brian, and Ronnie. I talked about Jackie and Paulette and Karen. “This campaign is the most diverse place I’ve ever worked. If the way he’s staffed his Iowa team is any indication, Obama’s Cabinet will actually look like America. I’m sure he’ll nominate the most qualified people, whether they happen to be black or white or brown or yellow or red or whatever.”
The producer eventually became a supporter.
* * *
Respect. Empower. Include. Maybe that’s grandiose. Maybe it’s even a little saccharine. For Obama to win Iowa and make history, our efforts at expanding the electorate—getting young people and others to attend their first caucus—had to pay off in a majority of Iowa’s ninety-nine counties. We were hopeful that the young people with whom we shared intimate, heartbreaking, and hopeful stories would show up on caucus night, but there were no guarantees.
On January 3, 2008, I arrived half an hour early to observe a caucus location at the University of Iowa and couldn’t believe what I saw—lines of young people that stretched for blocks. They showed up. Ahead of schedule.
Most of the hundreds of incredible people who caucused at that Iowa City site did so for Obama. Only a handful showed up for the other candidates: Edwards, Clinton, Biden, Richardson, and Kucinich. Obama easily won the precinct I was observing.
These young Americans smelled the “you can’t caucus in Iowa even though the law says you can” BS and decided not only to “caucus for Barack” but to spread their stories and experiences via text, email, and social media. This meant their friends were motivated to caucus for him too. “I liked that he didn’t talk down to us,” said one young woman I chatted with.
I texted and emailed with friends—other organizers—around the state. What are you hearing? Who won your caucus location? Have you heard from anyone else? There was nothing to do but wait for the official statewide results, which could really go in anyone’s favor. I sped back down I-80 west to Des Moines, where Obama would make a speech, win or lose. My driving companion was a gregarious, fast-talking Minnesotan named Charlie. “You like the band Spoon?” he asked as we pulled out of Iowa City. “Sure,” I replied, eager for a distraction from our anxiety. Charlie put on a song titled “The Underdog.” Its lyrics were fitting: You got no time for the messenger Got no regard for the thing that you don’t understand You got no fear of the underdog / That’s why you will not survive.
While the final polls had tightened in the state, no one in the media or in elite political circles was sure if the unlikely underdog—Team Obama—could actually win. It seemed unthinkable that a young, Black, progressive candidate could beat back the Democratic establishment. And we knew that even if Obama did pull off an upset in Iowa, we would still have an uphill battle. There was no telling what the rest of the primary season would bring: There were still so many more states to go.
Charlie and I stopped at a small family-owned gas station in Poweshiek County. As we paid for our food, a newscaster spoke on the small, boxy television behind the counter. “We believe that we have results to report. In a truly stunning and historic win, it appears that Illinois senator Barack Obama has won the Iowa caucuses, becoming the first African American in history to do so.” Charlie and I teared up, immediately. “Remember the name of this town,” he said to me. “Remember that this is the place we were when we found out we made history.”
1?Per the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, 2018.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN I APPLIED FOR MY WHITE HOUSE JOB ONLINE
After the writers’ strike ended on February 12, 2008, I split my time between filming in Los Angeles and organizing anywhere the ever-expanding Obama campaign sent me. In the ten months following the Iowa caucuses, I traveled to twenty-six glorious states. My work as a youth vote surrogate expanded to include other tasks like meeting with superdelegates and working with state conventions on electoral vote tallies. I also joined Obama’s Arts Policy Committee. During the week leading up to November 4, 2008, the day of the general election, the production team on House had managed to schedule me a few days off so I could put in some extra campaign work. I traveled to the swing states of Pennsylvania and New Hampshire to help with Get Out the Vote (GOTV) operations. If Obama lost, I could imagine no crappier feeling than an eleventh-hour realization that—after all this—I hadn’t done everything I could have.
Election Day was exciting. I chose to be in Florida, helping students find their polling places and answering last-minute questions from undecided first-time voters on college campuses from Gainesville to Orlando to Tallahassee. The University of Florida was especially lively. On the one hand, their Students for Obama team had built a festive robot to help with GOTV.
On the other hand, the robot and I got rocks thrown at us by some college Republicans. (This was not a first for the campaign; my friend Stephen Brokaw previously had rocks thrown at him outside a campaign office in Ohio.)