My First-Ever Kamala Harris Rally
My alarm beeps. It’s 4AM.
I get up, get the blood rushing. I want to leave in an hour. My friend in Minneapolis is expecting me to pick her up on our way to Eau Claire. I still don’t know where this rally is — it’s all a completely new experience.
An hour and a half later, I have my friend in the car and take I-94 due east. She has the location, thank God. I got nothing — no email came to me. Apparently there were email issues for some people who signed up to go.
I learn that it will be an outdoor rally. We talk — is there an assassination risk? We think about the Trump rally in Pennsylvania a couple of weeks prior…yeah, that rally. Thankfully, the only harm done to us was a dose of sunburn on our shoulders.
For the ten years that I’ve been voting, I’ve always voted Democrat. My pulse has been on politics during that time just enough to care about what’s happening in the country and whether my rights are still protected. However, I haven’t felt anywhere near the kind of excitement that I now do for Kamala Harris. Sure, I was crushed when Hillary lost in 2016. I remember waking up first-thing that morning after Election Day and, in total 2016 fashion, going right to making a Facebook Live stream and declaring numbly that “the assholes won.” I remember feeling terrified in every major election henceforth…including this upcoming one.
But to combat this fear, this dread, this sense of seemingly unavoidable hopelessness, I tuned out of the Biden-Trump race. I couldn’t get too invested in it without feeling awful. I can only vote. How dire.
But once Kamala Harris was endorsed by Biden upon his race drop-out, things changed. I still remember talking with others at church in the community hall. Then my friend ran in, away from a cornhole game, declaring “WE WON! WE WON!” Against my assumptions, it wasn’t about cornhole. It was about our democracy.
Now, here I am, on August 7, driving to the Eau Claire County Fairgrounds to see what I hope to God will be our next President. No joke — my playlist is on shuffle and yet, right upon pulling up to the rally location, Beyoncé's “Freedom” (Kamala Harris’ campaign song) starts playing! What an awesome coincidence.
And thank GOD we get there at 7:30. The line getting in is already rollercoaster-long, but it is by far just the beginning. Doors don’t open until 9. In that timespan, the line grows so long that I couldn’t see the end of it.
I stand in line for two hours. My friend and I talk with others around us — we are all ready. Many are like us, first-time rally goers. Minnesotans behind us signed up for the rally just the previous night.
Upon getting through the doors, we are greeted with catered donuts and coffee. This is the only sustenance that will be available all day. Who’s to even say that there were enough donuts for the eventual crowd of around 12,000 people? Maybe my friend and I were lucky.
At the door are little water bottles with the caps taken off, per Secret Service guidelines. We’re advised to keep these bottles and refill them at water stations for the day. It’s not going to be scorching, but at least three people do end up succumbing to heat exhaustion during the rally. It is a sunny, mid-70s day. Absolutely gorgeous. But there’s no fooling: a rally is a commitment. Getting there as early as we did, my friend and I at least got seating in the bleachers. This event is going to start at 11 and go on until 3. It’s still only 9:30.
That’s what one should expect before going to any political rally — most of your day is going to be spent waiting.
Yet we’re not there to just wait. Around us are people spreading joy and happiness. A bald eagle flying overhead garners a big reaction from everyone. We get into our chants, our sign-waving, and our talks about the future. What is going to happen? What are we going to remember from this moment, 20 years from now?
I also had a reporter walk by me, looking for a story. In a burst of type-A energy, I get his attention and start talking. My friend looks at me as if to say, “Hold on, do you even have a story?” Politics is embedded in all our lives — we all have a story. I tell the reporter about my fears of a second Trump term and my equally fervent hope for a Harris term. I talk about my family history and what brought me to this moment. I connect with this Toronto-based reporter about the landscape of this country and why I feel so passionate about trying to vote in our democracy. He remarked on the staunch divide seen in his travels between blue and red states. Blue states exuded this kind of hopeful, forward thinking to him. Meanwhile, interviewees in red states expressed hardship, paranoia, and anger. Both paint a necessary picture that we need to see of America. Some people clearly feel hopeless and left out of the conversation while others feel cautious optimism.
That was perhaps 75% of my day. The other 25%…was the stuff that I will remember well into my life.
I remember a sea of people engaged in impassioned speeches. Governor Tony Evers. Secretary of State Sarah Godlewski. Bon Iver. A farmer named Les Danielson whose family has stayed in the Chippewa River Valley for generations.
Governor Walz. My God, will I remember that. He stopped in the middle of his speech when someone passed out from dehydration.
And then her. Vice President Harris.
I won’t get into what she actually said, because her speech was filmed — you can watch it here. But sometimes with a leader, it’s not just about what they say, but what they don’t say. There’s no division. There’s no call for violence against anyone.
I don’t want to act dumb and delusional with pride. I know that this feeling has to be checked in and maintained. Voting still has to happen, amongst everyone. This is not the election to be passive and nonchalant. We have to care.
But for a moment…for an afternoon…I felt like I was truly a part of America’s future. Getting up before the sun, taking a two-hour drive, and waiting for hours for everything to even begin — I felt a part of it.
There needs to be more pride in this country. Driving out of the parking lot, my friend and I found ourselves to be the lucky ones once again because we didn’t have to park two miles away from the rally grounds. However, the forever-long line of people and cars leaving the rally was another glimmer of hope. Look at all of these people here. Look at all of these folks who came, who cared.
I want us to care about our country. We can disagree — in fact, I welcome healthy disagreement. It’s important for running a democracy. But hostility? Hate? Incivility?
As the Harris campaign touts, we’re not going back.
Thank you for reading! If you wish to support me, you can buy me a coffee here.
