Political campaigns were not new to me when I joined Hillary Clinton’s Pennsylvania headquarters this August as an organizing intern. I had worked as an intern for President Obama in 2012. But I was excited to work for a state headquarters, and a battleground state at that, instead of in a small field office. The election was revving up its engines; the RNC and DNC had just been held weeks prior and everyone was beginning to support their candidate more staunchly; fiercely fighting against their opponent. There had always been a video game-like quality to political campaigns, and this one was no different, if not even more so.
I entered the Pennsylvania headquarters for Hillary Clinton, on the ninth floor of a very large office building in Center City, with all of this adrenaline. To my surprise, everyone was quieter than I had anticipated; far more reserved than what I thought I would walk into. There were people coming to and fro, which was typical, but there was an odd sense of reservation that left me awkward and a little uneasy.
I was placed on the organizing team, which meant that I spent most of my days organizing voters into specific groups so that they could contact and be contacted by the right people to get them more involved (volunteers, voter registration, etc.). While organizing was similar to what I had done in the past as a fellow for President Obama, there was a lot more ennui this time around.
Over time, other interns joined me and I was no longer alone, but it felt as such because we did not develop any sort of real bond. Our presence also seemed largely superficial, and I often wondered if the work that I did on a daily basis even mattered much at all. This became evident one day when a paid employee of the campaign approached all of us interns in an attempt to kick us out of the table, as it was reserved for interns. She mistook us for volunteers in her long spiel about why we had to move.
Eventually, I grew closer with the other interns, especially when we moved our office to South Broad Street, as we coalesced over our confusion and frustration. Upon telling people of my internship, people were often in awe, but probably because they thought this meant I got to meet many famous politicians such as Hillary Clinton, President Bill Clinton, First Lady Michelle Obama. In fact, my internship meant quite the contrary. Even when Hillary Clinton came to my college to speak, we were not granted any special treatment. I had to stand in line at 9a.m. like everybody else.
Also as an intern, I was predictably at the very bottom of the campaign’s totem pole. However, I expected that my voice and input would have been used slightly, especially given my previous experience on a campaign, and the fact that I lived in a very conservative county of Pennsylvania. Maybe my assumption was not only incorrect, but also incredibly presumptuous. Either way, I noticed a lack of knowledge of Pennsylvania in the office. From what I gathered, few of those who worked in the office were themselves for Pennsylvania. I understood why they might want people with campaign experience versus someone from the region itself, but it appeared to me that a more-than-lukewarm knowledge of such a critical state would have been necessary.
I did not speak up much, but I recall once telling my supervisor that my family and friends back home had notified me that there were no Clinton/Kaine signs in the area. There is a belief that lawn signs are ineffective to useless when it comes to campaigns, but nevertheless, everyone saw this as a sign that Trump was winning whereas Hillary was not–and she needed a larger presence in central Pennsylvania.
“No, no, trust me there are signs there,” my supervisor reassured me.
I tried to tell him this wasn’t true, but he insisted that the lawn signs were in fact in abundance in Hanover, Pennsylvania. As someone from Hanover, Pennsylvania, I knew he was wrong, but there was no point in arguing with him.
Some days, the interns had to participate in volunteer exempt mailing in surrounding Bucks County, where sometimes our only duty was to place tape over a box. And multiple times, almost every week, we were asked to miss class just to place tape over a box. Now, to be fair, these boxes contained anti-Trump flyers and a certain number of volunteers were required for this to have been legal, but certainly none of us thought it was worth it to miss class. On these trips, I learned that favoritism and blind ignorance was a key characteristic of not only our office, but of politics.
It was suggested that because people were from New York City, they were somehow more equipped and open-minded enough to handle the “weirdness” of Bucks County residents. I was offended that without knowing us, someone would think that a fact so trivial made someone more tolerant, and also that people from outside of Philadelphia were “scary”. Liberals lived in a bubble, not too separate from the bubble they accused their opponents of living in, and it made working on the campaign more and more difficult.
As November 8th neared, attention centered on Pennsylvania, and more specifically Philadelphia, where Donald Trump had suggested would have been “rigged” if he lost the area. Of course, I also bought into media coverage with its exaggerations and misguided focus. It was easy to believe that there needed to be no more work done in anywhere other than metropolitan areas, which were already slated to vote Democratic.
Election Day approached, and my hope slid on thin ice. I realized that anything could happen, but firmly believed the odds were in our favor. When it was announced that Trump won, I was saddened by what it meant for the country ideologically, not that I had lost my battle. When I worked for Obama, there was the belief that there was something else I could have done. On this campaign, I had been placed on such a tight leash, that there never would have been anything else I could have been done.
But them? Maybe they should have listened.
All photos by: Yaz Hamou.