The sad state of disability
advocacy should be evident in the fact that electoral politics, imperfect and
compromised as all that seems to be, has often been my one shot at seeing what
winning feels like.(There are, of course, advocates who work out of a mixture
of passion AND necessity, but I’m not sure I count among their numbers.)
Struggling so hard to get an unhappy result is too much like my real life
outside of politics—my mother would hate that I wrote that but she also did
tell me to focus on something that affected me today, and I think that
qualifies.
There is another timeline where
funding campaigns is not like an arms race, where I might have taken more than
this moment to tell you, despite “Love on The Spectrum” being contrived in the
way all capital-R Reality is contrived,
both telling you how to feel about
everything and making sure everyone depicted is upper-middle class, but still?
You root for everyone involved.
Or I might have taken borderline-smug refuge in the Advantages of Incumbency.
Or maybe spent another day on the “Yay! It’s Walz,” half-victory train. Which I am glad about, even in my probable new life as a ground-game agnostic. Not sure I’m giving up every weekend again, though.
This much money in politics has a distorting affect, and that should be a bigger story. Not to be that acquaintance on social-networking to say “Nobody is talking about this!1” because they are. Just not everyone reads The Nation or Mother Jones, no matter how much I might wish(or, still, after all this time, dimly imagine a timeline where I might appear in one of them.)
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