I Caucused in Iowa and Everything Was Fine, Until It Wasn’t
You never would have known that night was going to end in disaster from inside that room
In a high school band room in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, two women sit behind me. They are my neighbors. One woman goes to my gym. I don’t recognize her until she pulls her hair away from her face and says, “Now imagine me sweaty!” Both of the women are both wearing puffy black coats. “Every candidate is so nice,” says the first woman. “Very nice,” echoes the other.
I nod and agree. “Yes, very nice.”
We are in this room to caucus. Every four years, it’s what we do here in Iowa. It’s our Olympics. A sport only we participate in, and even then not very many of us. And it’s got its problems. Iowa is one of the few states that still hasn’t given votes back to felons. It’s hard for parents to be here although many are, with babies in pajamas and toddlers with iPads. People with disabilities have an incredibly difficult time getting here.
It’s hard to be here, to sit in a seat in a room that gets stuffier and stuffier as the night goes on and watch as one by one we count everyone in the room. A headcount. It’s not a metaphor. Then we have to watch as a group of grown adults do some complicated math.
