Beto O’Rourke: Campaigning for Civility
by Darcy in Austin, Texas
I started October 24 with a Facebook “On This Day” reminder from 2016. The reminder was a photo of me and nine of my girlfriends, posing in front of a “Vote” sign. We were thrilled to be voting together. We believed that we had just voted for the first female president of the United States.
This picture is still hard for me to look at. I feel like it was from a different time, like I’m looking at a different, more naïve version of myself. I was so hopeful and optimistic — two emotions that are, now, rarely stirred by talks of the future of our country.
After feeling sad for a moment, I carried on with my morning and turned on the news. CNN was being evacuated due to a suspicious package, and other packages had been sent to the Obamas, the Clintons, and George Soros. Sadly, this felt normal. Disturbing, sickening and wrong . . . but normal. I am a news junkie and, had I no plans for the day, I probably would have sat on the couch and watched journalists analyze and report the details of these events ad nauseam. Thankfully, I did have plans. I was going to a Beto O’Rourke rally.
It was raining outside, and the homebody side of me was telling me to stay home. I was already a huge Beto fan, I’d watched endless Facebook Lives of him speaking, and I had already voted — for Beto. But I decided to go. I wanted to go. I needed to go. I rushed to get ready, and ran out the door wearing my Beto shirt (for the second or third day in a row) and my carrying my umbrella. I got in my car and put on Willie’s new song “Vote ’Em Out” on repeat. That felt right. I am a seventh-generation Texan, and Willie Nelson’s music runs through my blood: It was putting me in the right state of mind to see a potential Texas senator.
When I pulled up to the location, it was packed with cars. Another woman was getting directions to the rally location. We walked together, chatting about our excitement for Beto. She was a high school teacher, currently teaching her students rhetoric, a task she said is challenging in this political climate. It wasn’t long before I ran into neighborhood friends. We were glad to find each other and were equally as excited to hear Beto. We were at the back of a large crowd, and I wanted to see how many people were there. I told my friends I’d be right back and started to walk around the edge of the crowd. Before I completed my loop, I was stopped by someone saying we needed to move back because they were going to park a truck where we were standing. As soon as the truck parked, all the people behind me started to push in closer to the vehicle. There would be no moving from the spot because Beto was soon to arrive and speak from the back of that truck.
Soon after the truck parked, the chanting began: “Beto! Beto! Beto! Beto!” The crowd parted, and Beto jumped into the back of the truck (like a real Texan) in his signature blue button-down, holding his now-signature bullhorn.
His voice was fading, due, no doubt, to his nonstop tour of Texas and his never-ending speaking engagements. I saw someone give his handlers a package of cough drops, but he did not need them. This was a man who, though perhaps in the midst of a killer cold or just hoarse from speaking to crowd after crowd, was running purely on the hope and enthusiasm of his supporters. I looked around to see with whom I was standing and I realized I was surrounded by diversity — a young woman in a hijab to my left and an elderly male veteran to my right. It looked and felt like an actual sampling of America. Inspired by the unity and happy buzz of the crowd, I turned to the young women behind me and said, “OK, here’s the plan, on the count of three we are going to jump into that truck and hug his leg. Not in a weird way — just like a normal leg hug.” We all laughed. Before we could engage in our imaginary leg-hug plot, Beto began to speak, and the crowd quieted.
Beto spoke for about 15 minutes and did not a say a single thing, negative or otherwise, about Ted Cruz. He didn’t say anything that tried to scare me into casting a blue vote — no apocalyptic partisan scenarios or demonization of others. He spoke only of the things he believes in and things that he wants to improve. The crowd was supportive and energized and happy. I’ve seen some rallies where people are smiling and energized, but at which that energy comes at the expense of someone else’s loss or defeat. That was not what was happening in this rainy parking lot at a local community college. The happiness was generated by the idea that we had a leader who believed that all are welcome and all are worthy. Just like our Queen Oprah says, everyone wants to be seen and heard: “We all want validation.”
In his stump speeches, Beto often says something like “teachers, veterans, Republicans, Independents, first-time voters — you’re all in the right place.” He’s reminding ALL Texans that he sees us and he hears us. And at our rally in Austin, Beto used this welcome. He was not only validating our presence and our voice, but also our better selves. He used his words to push us away from division, and toward community.
Politics is not typically the breeding ground for oneness, nor is social media, but in the footsteps of Beto’s campaign, I am trying to be more deliberate in my words and actions and to reinforce only positive things. Positive comments, positive posts, factual information, acts of kindness — they all get my approval. The reason I said “trying” is because I am not always successful. I still find myself retweeting things that are sometimes offensive and often, not helpful. I “like” comedy bits that poke fun at people I disagree with. I’m good at finding the humor in dark situations, so what I need is a leader who will point me to the joy in the light.
Beto is the model of authenticity and imperfection; I find that hugely refreshing. Before he came on to the scene, I didn’t realize the weight of the negative political burden that I was carrying on my back. Beto reminds me that it doesn’t have to be that way. I feel lighter when I listen to his message.
I’ve heard people debating whether or not we should “go high” or “go low”; to me it’s a no-brainer. There’s an old quote I like: “I learned long ago never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty and, besides, the pig likes it.” I may be a Texan, but I don’t like mud and I don’t like wrastlin’ pigs. So I’m going to follow whoever is taking the high road and hold on for dear life.
We Texans are a diverse group. Our experiences guide our values and our priorities. My political values have shifted with the different stages of my life, though they’ve always been driven by my faith and my beliefs. I try not to be judgmental but admit that I’ve always had an issue with people who call themselves “single-issue voters.” But times change and people change, and I find myself becoming that which I had previously judged. From here on out, I will embrace my new title and the single issue I hold dear. I am a single-issue voter, and that single issue is CIVILITY.
I’m grateful to Beto O’Rourke, who along with Republican William Hurd, won Allegheny College’s 2018 Prize for Civility in Public Life, just happens to be campaigning on my issue.
