
Spotted over at the Revolution in Jesusland blog. Also check out the official site.
The "New Organizers" have succeeded in building what many netroots-oriented campaigners have been dreaming about for a decade. Other recent attempts have failed because they were either so "top-down" and/or poorly-managed that they choked volunteer leadership and enthusiasm; or because they were so dogmatically fixated on pure peer-to-peer or "bottom-up" organizing that they rejected basic management, accountability and planning. The architects and builders of the Obama field campaign, on the other hand, have undogmatically mixed timeless traditions and discipline of good organizing with new technologies of decentralization and self-organization.
Win or lose, "The New Organizers" have already transformed thousands of communities—and revolutionized the way organizing itself will be understood and practiced for at least the next generation. Obama must continue to feed and lead the organization they have built—either as president or in opposition. If he doesn't, then the broader progressive movement needs to figure out how to pick this up, keep it going and spread it to all 50 states.
Little known fact: for about a year, while I was in high school, I contemplated a political career. I was a volunteer intern with the Democratic Coordinated Campaign in 2000, and I was hired as an intern for Senator Feingold’s office the summer between my junior and senior years. For a tiny while I thought to myself, you know what, I could be a damn fine president. Yes, I really did.
And then I realized, come on now, I’m biracial. I’m a woman. The daughter of an immigrant. It’s impossible in my lifetime. I can’t. I won’t ever be given the chance. Give up. And then I gave up.
Now imagine a girl, in high school, a teenager, mixed-race, black, Asian, Latina, native american, any girl who would have been held back by being who she was born as, imagine her having that dream today. And then watching Barack Obama’s speech tonight. And not giving up.
It’s the dreams of those young girls and boys that actually brought me to tears tonight, not anything that was said in that packed stadium in Denver. The tenuous hope, so easily taken away, that there could be a generation of children of color raised in an America with a biracial black man as its President. The dreams they’d be allowed to dream, and really believe in. The burdens of their parents that they wouldn’t feel at all. Just eight years ago, when I was in high school, dreaming, that seemed a complete impossibility. An impossibility.
I was wrong to give up, though I can’t take it back, my life is on a very different path now, and my heart is elsewhere. And I had my reasons not to hope. So far this election cycle I have been very, very doubtful about Senator Obama’s chances. He’s not President yet, he still may never be, but I’ve already been proven wrong. And I revel in it.
I didn’t believe that Americans were ready to nominate someone like Obama. Someone who looked like Obama, and had his background. I didn’t believe it because, as my family moved around the world, every time we moved back to the US, I was met with prejudice, nonacceptance, hostility, and ignorance. Not uniformly, not from everyone. But over and over again. In everyday incidences that, one by one, pounded it into my consciousness that I was not accepted, I did not belong, and it was because of what I look like, who my parents are, and where we come from. Somewhere in the back of my head, I believe that most people believe that I’m not a real American. And Barack Obama, a man with a background quite similar to mine in many respects, well, I couldn’t believe that people could put aside those prejudices that I’d felt so often in my life, and accept him as one of their own. I’m still not sure I do believe it.
But it’s not impossible anymore. And that’s enough to impress me, and amaze me, and humble me. I thought too little of America, because I was convinced that it thought so little of me, and of people like me.
Thanks for proving me wrong, Senator. You have my vote.

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