When my kids were little, the unspoken rule was you didn’t trick-or-treat until dark. Well, somebody changed that rule and didn’t tell me. That’s how I ended up awkwardly knocking doors at 5 p.m. along with dozens of children in Jefferson Heights.
At one home I rang the bell just as several costumed preschoolers swarmed up from the sidewalk and surrounded me, so we were all standing there together when the homeowner (also in costume) opened the door holding a big bowl of candy. If there’s anything more deflating than the facial expression of someone who expected Baby Yoda and got you instead, it’s the facial expression of someone who thinks you hijacked a group of trick-or-treaters to talk politics.
Sometimes all you can do is smile, introduce yourself, and leave. But other awkward interactions turn into great conversations, like the one I had with a man who answered the door with his pants half off.
He dashed back inside, explaining from behind that door that he was changing clothes after a long day at work, heard the knock, and thought it was one of his adult children. We wound up talking about how hard it is to get ahead in a state where hourly wages are so low. He described how, as a young dad, he’d worked the same municipal job for years at $8.25 an hour and drove a forklift at night. His sons went to college—he made sure of that—and now, finally, he was making enough money to buy the small duplex he’d lived in for ages. He was excited about being a landlord.
This guy was all positive energy, with waist-length dreadlocks and a contagious smile.
“You should run for something,” I said.
“I’ve thought about it,” he replied.
I hope he’ll keep thinking about it. He’s the kind of guy who can speak to a broad subset of Tennesseans, the politically disenfranchised working class. He’s been where they are.
But you don’t see many people like him in the Tennessee General Assembly. It’s full of white men—the subset of Tennesseans most likely to have the means and flexibility to campaign for a job that pays $24,000 annually and requires working in Nashville the first four months of the year. That subset skews very conservative. I happen to be an outlier.
It’s a privilege to run for State House; a lot of people can’t. So I’m running for them. Awkwardly.
Allison
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