Yesterday, I took a risk. I did something that a large part of me never thought I’d do. I got on a bus, at 6:30 am, and went up to Iowa to canvass for Bernie Sanders.

I got the call on Wednesday morning. I had just returned the night before from visiting my family in Connecticut. I was half-awake in the on-campus coffee shop, pretending to answer emails while I listened to the president’s lawyers tell the American people that he can essentially do whatever he wants.

I normally don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t know. Maybe it was fate, or simply sheer desperation, that made me pick up.

“Hello? Hello?” I asked. There were long seconds of silence on the other end. Finally, a voice. A young man, clearly reading off of a call script, started to give his spiel: The Iowa caucuses are on Monday. There’s a bus leaving from St. Louis on Saturday morning to go knock on doors in one of the towns. This is our last chance to make a big difference in the first-in-the-nation primary vote.

I tried to cut him off, to tell him that I had the link to sign up. I’d think about it. Maybe decide later. He insisted; the point was to sign people up by phone. Several annoying questions later, I had agreed. I was going to Iowa.

The morning of, I woke up at 5:30 (well, 5:40, if you count the two times I snoozed my alarm). I threw on warm clothes, made coffee, grabbed my pre-packed bag, and headed out the door.

I arrived at the pick-up location right on time; true to my socially anxious form, I lingered on the outskirts of the gathering group, trying to gauge for sure that this was the Bernie crowd before jumping in. One of the other volunteers greeted me and pointed me towards a box of donuts he had bought, propped open on the hood of his car. This was my first lesson in canvassing for Bernie–his supporters are thoughtful and generous.

Fifteen minutes and one minor bus timing mishap later, we were off. The people sitting around me were quick to strike up a conversation; what about, I don’t remember. It was 6:45 am. What I do remember is that we didn’t stop talking until we got there. We talked about politics, we talked about music, we joked about restaurant choices…I almost forgot that the point of the trip was to talk to voters in Iowa. My book–my emergency escape from social interaction–languished in my backpack. My second lesson about Bernie supporters–we are truly a diverse bunch. On this trip, there were teachers, engineers, and students; people from South America, China, and here in the midwest; people of all genders and sexualities; people in their twenties and people in their seventies.

We arrived at the Bernie field office in Ottumwa, Iowa, shortly before noon. We were greeted by friendly volunteers and food. We got a crash course in the logistics of canvassing–download the MiniVAN app, enter your assigned list number, navigate from house to house using the built-in map–as well as the human side of canvassing: convincing people to vote for Bernie. For my medical school friends, this is essentially the same as motivational interviewing: listen to what people care about, validate and agree with their feelings, and discuss what positions Bernie has that address their concerns. By the end of the training, I still didn’t feel prepared.

(Side note: I don’t know how I would have canvassed before the invention of Google Maps. I would have gotten lost in Iowa. I probably would never even have gotten to my first house.)

I hiked across the Des Moines River to begin knocking on my first set of doors, and learned my first lesson about canvassing in Iowa in general: When they say we are “the boots on the ground,” they mean that literally. Bring snow boots. Here I was, trudging around in my mesh running sneakers, through un-plowed snow and slush.

My anxiety mounted as I approached my first house. It had a creaky, wooden porch, chipping paint, and a questionably functioning doorbell. I knocked once…nothing. Knocked twice…zilch. Part of me secretly hoped that I would get the same response all day. I could leave cards on people’s front doors. That’s fine by me.

Someone answered at the next house, and I stumbled through the script the app was giving me: “Hi, my name is Jamie Moffa, and I’m a volunteer with the Bernie Sanders campaign…”

He shut the door in my face.

Over the next three hours, I got a lot of “Not Homes”, a few people who had moved away, one disgruntled Trump supporter, and a house that I literally could not find. I had had a few conversations with voters by the time I was wrapping up my list, but they were all decisively undecided, and didn’t seem to want to talk much.

The second-to-last house I visited, the door opened before I had even knocked. I delivered my truncated introduction. “Hi, is so-and-so available?” The woman looked behind her and shouted. A young Latino man got off the couch and came to the door.

I introduced myself, asked him if he was planning on caucusing on Monday.

“Probably.” He shrugged.

“Do you know who you’re caucusing for?”

He looked around, uncertain. “Maybe Bernie.”

“Can you tell me what issues are important to you in this election?”

Right away: “Immigration.”

I nodded, talked a bit about my views on the detention camps at the border, pivoted to Bernie’s plan to end child separation from their parents and pave an easier pathway to citizenship.

“So can I count on you to caucus for Bernie?”

He smiled. “Yes. I’m going to bring my cousins, too.”

I thanked him and left his house, grinning. That one interaction had made an entire afternoon of frustration worth it. There was something in talking with him, connecting with him over our shared values and concerns, that made me feel hopeful. My second lesson about canvassing in Iowa: when you talk to people, and listen to them, you really feel like you are making a difference.

I was so hooked on canvassing by this point that I went back to the office and got another list. This one went basically the same as the first. Most people didn’t answer. Many were undecided. Though my conversations with these voters, too, were instructive and rewarding. An older Filipino couple talked to me about their concerns about the economy and health care. I listened as a union worker said that he likes Bernie, but isn’t sure about all that free stuff. (By the end of that conversation, he asked to take a pamphlet. Progress!)

Overall, it was an exhausting, rewarding, and hopeful experience. In the midst of endless political turmoil in Washington, it was good (and very productive) to take a step back from the hyper-intense punditry, and refocus on what voters actually care about, what things are affecting their daily lives that they want, and need, a president to address.

The caucuses in Iowa are on Monday, February 3rd.

You can find out when your state’s primary election is here.

You can find out if you are registered to vote here.

You can learn where the Democratic candidates stand on the issues in this helpful interactive link by Politico.

The Trans Physicians & Trans Scientists Project will return next week. I promise.

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