It's tough living in a blue state, isn't it?
Where the polls have signs up saying, "All Are Welcome!"
Where state attorney generals tell companies recruiting armed thugs to "guard" the polls that they are violating the law (in my state, the AG would find an old redlining map and tell them, "Just these neighborhoods!")
You don't realize how blessed you are.
I lived in a blue state the first forty years of my life (NY). I would have called myself an independent, voting mostly Democrat but occasionally Republican. I voted for George H.W. Bush, for example.
When I moved to three red states consecutively, I was so horrified at all the human rights abuses I saw I became a liberal Democrat very quickly.
When I lived in a small South Dakota university town, I became friendly with a woman who used a wheelchair. Our children were very close. Her husband was in a dead end job earning minimum wage, but actually less than minimum wage, because he was "on salary." He worked about 48 hours a week for 40 hours' minimum wage. He was afraid to look for another job in his small amount of free time because he was afraid if his boss found out he'd be fired. I went to my auto dealership for a warrant repair and saw they were looking for mechanics. I recommended her husband. He was rescued from his dishonest employer.
Two companies (one of them my husband's employer, Gateway) wanted to set up call centers hiring hundreds of people at the munificent salary of $8 an hour (late 1990's). The Chamber of Commerce was up in arms, because there wasn't a single small business in town paying employees $8 an hour, and they would have to compete for the college students. Did they not realize that more jobs, higher salaries would bring their businesses more customers, that perhaps other businesses would be attracted there, that there managers and executives would be dining out, shopping more, going to the movies and shows, etc.?
I wondered why cars didn't have to be expected annually. Another friend scolded me. "If people needed to get their cars fixed because they failed an inspection, they might not be able to drive for months. How would they get to work?"
These had never been my problems. I had lived in a comfortable cocoon all my life, and in the suburbs and local schools, I saw little poverty.
I had known for many years already that the people you call "lazy" often work backbreaking jobs that would have knocked me out, especially as I got older. I realized what a privilege it was to be sitting at a desk most of the day designing publications and advertisements, interviewing people, writing stories and taking photos. Yes, they probably made less than I did--and they shouldn't.
These people understand what life is all about. They need to vote.
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