Tales from a phone-banker 

During my last phone bank session, despite my best efforts to prepare, the first few calls were rusty after months of inactivity. What you get on the other end of the line is unpredictable. And I do mean what. During a banking session last month, I had the thrilling experience of talking to a bot for nearly three minutes. Of course, this coincided with getting accused of communism, facing questions I didn’t have the answer to, and a rare occasion of bonding with a stranger.

As I eased into numerous conversations, I found my script started to naturally shift and form into something that felt natural and genuine. There became a point where I stopped letting rejection fuel my fear of engaging, and my three standards finally took priority. 

One of my most memorable calls came toward the end of my shift. A woman hesitantly answered the phone with a terse tone and mentioned she was putting her child to rest. I approached her gently and provided her enough space to engage in the conversation at her discretion. 

To my surprise, she was extraordinarily curious and open to discussion about her desires for the upcoming election. As I discussed my candidate’s platform points and the urgency of climate policy, she said “well, my husband actually works in oil…”  (*GULP*)

Surprisingly, this aspect of her life became an anchor point in our conversation instead of a source of friction. In her perspective, oil was both the means to her stable income and the demise of her community; in fact, she was tired of her state’s lack of political support around climate change. As an undecided voter, our eight-minute conversation swayed through compromise, difference, fears, and the efficacy of environmental policy in the reality of the climate crisis. From a pair of strangers who stood on uneven ground through a telephone line, the dichotomy between her support for environmental change and her occupational dependence on the fossil fuel industry was the connective tissue that made our interaction intimately personal. 

Although we remain deep in the belly of the pandemic, strangerhood still plays an integral role in reminding us of our longing for interconnection. Despite the usual hang-ups, the bots, and the trolls, I observed that more voters were willing to talk, share their grievances, or inquire about their local election. There was a willingness to listen, which I didn’t encounter in online spaces. Compared to door-to-door and face-to-face strategies, phone banking is not your usual get-out-the-vote strategy. However, for 2020 it’s the most accessible option for political action without compromising your health.

When you find yourself questioning your ability to make a difference, remember: don’t agonize, organize.