Swing Left, the self-described “grassroots network of 300,000 volunteers working to take back the House in the 2018 midterm elections,” is looking for college students for political organizing fellowships.
Does your state include one of the many districts which judged — using polling data, election results, registration numbers, etc. — to be a district that could be wrung from the control of today’s out-of-control GOP? Click here for a map to find out if you live in or near one of these districts.
If so, you could be chosen for a college fellowship during which you get real political and grassroots organizing experience to put on your resume, with the added benefit of helping to flip the U.S. House of Representatives away from the rubber stamp it has become for the Trump Administration and Wall Street excess.
Swing Left adds that you will be learning from what Swing Left calls its “organization led by professionals from the tech, media, nonprofit and art worlds in collaboration with veteran political organizers and strategists.”
Here’s what I love about Swing Left: they aren’t just talking. They are taking concrete action to help take us away from this national political nightmare in which we are all living.
Incidentally, even if you are not a college student you can still get involved if you live in one of those swing districts.
If you know a college student interested in political organizing, let them know about this opportunity.
What if my son had panicked under the stress, having never had a gun pointed at him before, and made what the officer considered a “suspicious” movement? Had I come close to losing him? Triggers cannot be unpulled. Bullets cannot be called back.
My son was unarmed, possessed no plunder, obeyed all instructions, answered all questions, did not attempt to flee or resist in any way.
This is the scenario I have always dreaded: my son at the wrong end of a gun barrel, face down on the concrete. I had always dreaded the moment that we would share stories about encounters with the police in which our lives hung in the balance, intergenerational stories of joining the inglorious “club.”
When that moment came, I was exceedingly happy I had talked to him about how to conduct himself if a situation like this ever occurred. Yet I was brewing with sadness and anger that he had to use that advice.
I am reminded of what I have always known, but what some would choose to deny: that there is no way to work your way out — earn your way out — of this sort of crisis. In these moments, what you’ve done matters less than how you look.
This was at Yale! Can you imagine how this scene plays out every day of every year in less genteel circumstances? In inner cities? At Southern universities and colleges? In small town America? At a train stop in Staten Island?
It’s a god-damned college campus. Ask FIRST for his friggin’ student ID card!
If police everywhere try to spin this as anything other than shoddy police work and racism I will start to lose hope.