As part of a continuing series, we're following Obama Organizing Fellows as they share their stories and their experiences. They discuss the people they meet, the hardships of organizing, what the campaign means to them, and how this summer is changing their perspective.
Laura is an Organizing Fellow in St. Louis, Missouri. Her stories appear each Tuesday.
I love the sky in St. Louis; the clouds are big, the sky is wide and no buildings blocks the view. I also love Forest Park—a huge park with a beautiful Art museum plopped on top of it and a river of sorts flowing through the center. I love the City Museum: a grand, recycled, playground that invites guests into its chambers (literally) until the early hours of the morning. And if the sights aren’t enough, I am continually appreciative of the opportunity to work with the people who live here—people as various, playful, and beautiful as the parts of the city I am growing to love. This past week, I had the opportunity to see a lot of different sides of St. Louis. I experienced the crowd at the infamous Warped Tour, where fellows and volunteers gathered for eight hours to register new voters. We began by walking down the line, which grew and grew as we marched along, asking people to register. There, we experienced the usual mix of responses—apathy, excitement, anger and gratitude—and successfully registered a lot of young people excited about Obama and punk rock. As the day continued, we went to every different entrance, exit, and bathroom, and tried to register more and more young voters. One of our volunteers plastered himself with stickers and walked through the crowds, screaming over the singers (who were screaming themselves), “If you are 18 by November, register here now!” Another stood for over two hours with sticker sheets draped around her neck, ready and willing to give people the opportunity to show their support. None of us left without a sunburn. At my July 4th event, my team planned a voter registration event with a very different crowd. We went to the fireworks event in Kirkwood, MO, which is a picturesque town in the County. Not surprisingly, it also has a large amount of proud, registered, voters so the event was somewhat “unsuccessful.” That said, our volunteers were extraordinary and inspiring—a woman named Linda opened up her house as a meeting place and another woman named Marilyn pulled in the largest number of registrations that we had the whole evening.After the July 4th weekend, I took the down time I had to explore the city a bit. Without numbers to call and events to plan (for at least a day), I ended up at the Art Museum in Forest Park, sucked in by the German expressionist painter, Max Beckmann. His art was compelling but his life was what intrigued me most. He was a prolific painter who went into exile during Hitler’s rise to power when he was deemed a “threat” of some sort. After that, he was not allowed then to teach or make his art. My first reaction was that of disbelief; I couldn’t really imagine a world in which an artist would feel the need to leave his country and enter a life of poverty because of his passion was somehow threatening to the government. As I thought more about it, however, I realized that people are silenced every day, for merely expressing themselves and their passions. When I do voter registration, there is usually a comment of some sort that makes me want shut my mouth, turn the other direction, and run away. And I remembered, as I stared at Beckmann’s wild paintings—paintings full of chaotic carnivals and warped perspectives—that this is part of the reason I am here: to give citizens their voices back and get those voices heard.
I love the sky in St. Louis; the clouds are big, the sky is wide and no buildings blocks the view. I also love Forest Park—a huge park with a beautiful Art museum plopped on top of it and a river of sorts flowing through the center. I love the City Museum: a grand, recycled, playground that invites guests into its chambers (literally) until the early hours of the morning. And if the sights aren’t enough, I am continually appreciative of the opportunity to work with the people who live here—people as various, playful, and beautiful as the parts of the city I am growing to love.
This past week, I had the opportunity to see a lot of different sides of St. Louis. I experienced the crowd at the infamous Warped Tour, where fellows and volunteers gathered for eight hours to register new voters. We began by walking down the line, which grew and grew as we marched along, asking people to register. There, we experienced the usual mix of responses—apathy, excitement, anger and gratitude—and successfully registered a lot of young people excited about Obama and punk rock. As the day continued, we went to every different entrance, exit, and bathroom, and tried to register more and more young voters. One of our volunteers plastered himself with stickers and walked through the crowds, screaming over the singers (who were screaming themselves), “If you are 18 by November, register here now!” Another stood for over two hours with sticker sheets draped around her neck, ready and willing to give people the opportunity to show their support. None of us left without a sunburn.
At my July 4th event, my team planned a voter registration event with a very different crowd. We went to the fireworks event in Kirkwood, MO, which is a picturesque town in the County. Not surprisingly, it also has a large amount of proud, registered, voters so the event was somewhat “unsuccessful.” That said, our volunteers were extraordinary and inspiring—a woman named Linda opened up her house as a meeting place and another woman named Marilyn pulled in the largest number of registrations that we had the whole evening.
After the July 4th weekend, I took the down time I had to explore the city a bit. Without numbers to call and events to plan (for at least a day), I ended up at the Art Museum in Forest Park, sucked in by the German expressionist painter, Max Beckmann. His art was compelling but his life was what intrigued me most. He was a prolific painter who went into exile during Hitler’s rise to power when he was deemed a “threat” of some sort. After that, he was not allowed then to teach or make his art. My first reaction was that of disbelief; I couldn’t really imagine a world in which an artist would feel the need to leave his country and enter a life of poverty because of his passion was somehow threatening to the government. As I thought more about it, however, I realized that people are silenced every day, for merely expressing themselves and their passions. When I do voter registration, there is usually a comment of some sort that makes me want shut my mouth, turn the other direction, and run away. And I remembered, as I stared at Beckmann’s wild paintings—paintings full of chaotic carnivals and warped perspectives—that this is part of the reason I am here: to give citizens their voices back and get those voices heard.
Check back next Tuesday for more from Laura in St. Louis, Missouri, and visit our Flickr page for more of her photos.
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