One of Obama’s spokespeople at the time was future White House Press Secretary Jen Psaki, who said, “Barack Obama doesn’t believe that we should disenfranchise Iowans who meet all the requirements for caucus participation simply because they’re in college. We should be encouraging young people to participate in the political process—not looking for ways to shut them out.”
In the early primary states, witnessing this sort of loose-rumored, anonymous voter suppression felt extra shady because I was meeting increasing numbers of young people who were opening up with inspiring and heartbreaking stories of what an Obama victory would mean to them and their loved ones. A young volunteer named Stephen told me that his mom had cancer and no health insurance. He’d had to leave college to help with the bills at home and volunteered after work every day because of Obama’s health care plan. A young woman named Sonal had a brother whose student loans were so large that he was unable to make the monthly payments. She wanted to make sure Obama’s pledge to double the Pell Grant came to fruition—it would be too late to help her brother, but it would help others like him who were thinking about higher education. And at a campaign stop on a snowy college campus, I was approached by a smiling, heavyset, wheelchair-bound young man named Miguel. After making small talk, Miguel reached into his wallet and pulled out a photo of a fit, handsome marine. “That’s me,” he said. “When my convoy in Iraq was hit by an IED, I was paralyzed from the waist down. I volunteer for the Obama campaign because both parties voted to authorize that war, and Barack was against it. I never want anyone to go through what I did.”
How could anybody try to discourage people like Miguel and Sonal and Stephen from voting? The mistake I made in pondering this question was similar to how I thought about those early stereotypical auditions—by getting caught up in raw emotion. Voter suppression—whether low-level, disorganized, and anonymous (as in the case of Iowa) or codified at a deeper level (as in the case of several recent laws and rulings) is something we can and should fight. It’s not new. It’s also not usually personal, even though its impact is. Above all else, forms of voter suppression are a symptom of old-school opportunism and power. As far as why anyone would try to discourage young people from participating in the caucus, that was simple: Polling suggested that if college students—like the woman who jogged by me—showed up, they were going to caucus for Obama.
* * *
My phone rang two weeks before the caucuses. A well-known, left-leaning Hollywood producer was on the line. “Kal, I’ve been getting lots of calls from people who are starting to like Obama and considering donating to him. Since you know him, I wanted to bring up a big concern we have. If he ends up winning… is Barack going to nominate all Black people to his Cabinet?”
“God, I hope so,” I shot back, thinking his question was satirical.
“Seriously, Kal. Will he?”
Oh, this guy was actually worried.
Flashbacks to “so you’re not even Latin” flooded my brain. I wanted to go off on this Hollywood liberal, but I could tell it was a pivotal moment in his political life (one that could benefit the guy I was working for if I handled it right), so I dialed back my disappointment and instead told him about meeting Rohan, Brian, and Ronnie. I talked about Jackie and Paulette and Karen. “This campaign is the most diverse place I’ve ever worked. If the way he’s staffed his Iowa team is any indication, Obama’s Cabinet will actually look like America. I’m sure he’ll nominate the most qualified people, whether they happen to be black or white or brown or yellow or red or whatever.”
The producer eventually became a supporter.
* * *
Respect. Empower. Include. Maybe that’s grandiose. Maybe it’s even a little saccharine. For Obama to win Iowa and make history, our efforts at expanding the electorate—getting young people and others to attend their first caucus—had to pay off in a majority of Iowa’s ninety-nine counties. We were hopeful that the young people with whom we shared intimate, heartbreaking, and hopeful stories would show up on caucus night, but there were no guarantees.
On January 3, 2008, I arrived half an hour early to observe a caucus location at the University of Iowa and couldn’t believe what I saw—lines of young people that stretched for blocks. They showed up. Ahead of schedule.
Most of the hundreds of incredible people who caucused at that Iowa City site did so for Obama. Only a handful showed up for the other candidates: Edwards, Clinton, Biden, Richardson, and Kucinich. Obama easily won the precinct I was observing.
These young Americans smelled the “you can’t caucus in Iowa even though the law says you can” BS and decided not only to “caucus for Barack” but to spread their stories and experiences via text, email, and social media. This meant their friends were motivated to caucus for him too. “I liked that he didn’t talk down to us,” said one young woman I chatted with.
I texted and emailed with friends—other organizers—around the state. What are you hearing? Who won your caucus location? Have you heard from anyone else? There was nothing to do but wait for the official statewide results, which could really go in anyone’s favor. I sped back down I-80 west to Des Moines, where Obama would make a speech, win or lose. My driving companion was a gregarious, fast-talking Minnesotan named Charlie. “You like the band Spoon?” he asked as we pulled out of Iowa City. “Sure,” I replied, eager for a distraction from our anxiety. Charlie put on a song titled “The Underdog.” Its lyrics were fitting: You got no time for the messenger Got no regard for the thing that you don’t understand You got no fear of the underdog / That’s why you will not survive.
While the final polls had tightened in the state, no one in the media or in elite political circles was sure if the unlikely underdog—Team Obama—could actually win. It seemed unthinkable that a young, Black, progressive candidate could beat back the Democratic establishment. And we knew that even if Obama did pull off an upset in Iowa, we would still have an uphill battle. There was no telling what the rest of the primary season would bring: There were still so many more states to go.
Charlie and I stopped at a small family-owned gas station in Poweshiek County. As we paid for our food, a newscaster spoke on the small, boxy television behind the counter. “We believe that we have results to report. In a truly stunning and historic win, it appears that Illinois senator Barack Obama has won the Iowa caucuses, becoming the first African American in history to do so.” Charlie and I teared up, immediately. “Remember the name of this town,” he said to me. “Remember that this is the place we were when we found out we made history.”
1?Per the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, 2018.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN I APPLIED FOR MY WHITE HOUSE JOB ONLINE