Organizing for America | Valarie Kaur's Blog: Our Victory in Pflugerville, Texas

Our Victory in Pflugerville, Texas

By Valarie Kaur - Mar 7th, 2008 at 2:25 am EST

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We delivered our piece of Texas for Obama: precinct 222 in Pflugerville north of Austin, a largely white conservative town with a 9% African American population. For four days, my teammates and I canvassed the neighborhoods from morning to night, leaving personal notes on the doorsteps of 400 households for the morning of the election.

Election day was nothing short of extraordinary. There were record turn-outs for Democrats at the polls and at the caucus. Last time, four people attended our caucus. This time, nearly 300 people showed up on election night and voted 222 for Obama, 57 Clinton. Our precinct alone will send 21 delegates for Obama to the county convention.

What happened in Pflugerville happened all over Texas: one million people turned up to caucus on election night. Since one-third of the delegates from the state come from caucus results, Obama won Texas. Clinton's declared victory is more rhetorical and psychological than real. Obama leads in delegates, the popular vote, and funds. We need to keep fighting: donate, blog, call voters, grow the movement. Just like we did in Texas. Read on...

After four days canvassing Pflugerville, our team decided to go where we were most needed on election day: Laura stayed at headquarters to work with other lawyers on voter protection, George promoted visibility at a busy polling place in Austin, and Lutishia and I got permission to return to Pflugerville for our final get-out-the-vote effort.

From the minute we arrived until the minute the polls closed, Lutishia and I drove through the streets, knocked on doors, and literally sprinted through our neighborhood, passing out Obama signs and telling everyone we met to vote and caucus that night at Windemere Elementary School. We were shocked to find that most voters had no idea about the caucus, so we gave them our cell phone numbers and made people promise to come. Those who found our notes on their doorsteps in the morning called to ask us questions and thank us for all our work.

During our final rounds a half-an-hour before the polls closed, we pulled up to an open garage with a group of kids playing video games. "Any of you old enough to vote?" I yelled out of the car.

"I am," said Jevon, a 19-year with corn rows and baggy jeans and a shy mature way about him.

"Get in the van," I said.

Lutishia and I drove him to the polls and stood with him in a long line that ran down the hall. There was nearly no line for Republicans, but the turn-out for Democrats was record-breaking.

"I always liked Obama ever since Iowa," Jevon told me as we waited. "I just didn't know how to vote. I want to be a psychiatrist when I grow up. You know, to help people."

When Jevon got to the front of the line, they couldn't find his name in the books and turned him away. He was about to leave when I stepped up and demanded a provisional ballot. They gave it to him, and I stood aside and watched him vote for the first time in his life. When I dropped him home and told him I was proud of him, he said in his shy quiet way, "I appreciate you too."

Back at Windemere Elementary, they opened the doors at 7pm for the Democratic caucus. Last time, four people came to caucus. This time, 280 people filled the school cafeteria, sitting on the ground, standing against the wall, most of them African-American. Lutishia and I nearly cried. We recognized half the faces in the crowd; they simply would not have been there if it weren't for us. We stood back, eager spectators to the process.

The caucus began in chaos, questions flying about what to do and how. Lutishia and I stepped up with rules in hand and were swept up into the whole thing before we knew it. We explained the procedure, helped them elect the chair and secretary, organized the crowds, signed in and registered voters, even managed the tallying of the results. Despite the long wait, people was patient and gracious, no one complained, everyone felt something important happening.

After five long hours, we announced the outcome: 21 delegates to Obama and 5 to Clinton. We called in the results in at midnight, and I imagined the caucus numbers besides Obama's name on CNN going up by 21 -- because of us.

After it was all over and the cafeteria was empty, I slumped on the floor next to Lutishia. "Did that just happen?"

When we reported the results to our field organizer, he dropped his jaw. "I anticipated these numbers from precincts in Austin but Pflugerville?!" he told Lutishia and me. "You were in the heart of Republican country. I can't pay hard-core activists to go where you were begging to go."

We were directly responsible for the overwhelming turn-out, the smooth process, and the landslide results. We had never felt such a hand in our democracy. It was humbling and gratifying.

As we left Pflugerville, Laura called and told us about the reports of voter disenfranchisement and caucus problems all throughout the state. And then it hit us. If we as spectators found ourselves essential in getting people ballots, telling people about the caucus, and even organizing the whole thing, what had happened around the state? Who was turned away at the polls who shouldn't have been? Where was the paper trail for Texas voting machines, and who was overseeing the count? How many people never knew about the caucus at all? And in all those caucuses that began in confusion and chaos, who stepped up and were they honest and fair? Suddenly, our democracy felt extremely fragile and volatile.

We didn't get the news about the popular vote going to Clinton until we drove back to Austin. We were deeply disappointed -- we had all hoped the nominee would have been decided that night. Even worse, we couldn't help but feel weary about the fairness of the entire process. In an election this close, when there is so much at stake, we cannot risk voter fraud, disenfranchisement, and misinformation. I shudder to remember how Florida's recount disaster in the 2000 presidential election changed the course of human history.

Now that I'm home and have slept fifteen hours, I wake up to the reality that Obama still leads in delegates, the popular vote, and funds. And that he could very well win Texas once the caucus results come in. When Clinton called her victory in Texas, it was more rhetorical and psychological than real.

In the days leading up to the recent election, Clinton and her supporters have turned to shocking negative attacks steeped in racism and xenophobia. For them, the ends justify the means. They will say and do anything to win. In response, we must learn to be tougher and smarter, but we cannot -- we must not -- give in to the temptation to use sexism, ageism, or fear to defeat our opponent, whether Clinton today or McCain tomorrow, even if it costs us in the short-term. For our fight is not just about winning. It is about bringing about a new kind of politics, a new kind of unity, where each one of us owns our integrity and recognizes the humanity and intentions of those different from us. Our lasting victory lies not in the outcome but in how we fight the fight.

As we face desperate tactics of fear and racism, our commitment to truth, justice, and unity will be tested. I stand with Obama because I do not believe he will compromise himself. Neither must we.

We can draw resolve from how far we have come already and our very-real victories on March 4th, starting with Pflugerville, Texas.

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