"Do you hear the people sing?/ Singing the songs of angry men/ It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again/ When the beating of your heart/ echoes the beating of the drums/ there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes."
This was the song blaring through my speakers as I hurtled along down Interstate 85 on Wednesday night. With the power of Bill Weld's words echoing in my head, the song gave me full body chills.
I'll back up.
October 5, 2016. I woke up extra early and spent the entire day finishing my homework so that I would be free for the night. I put on my favorite dress (a Diane Von Furstenburg, stolen from my mom's closet) my nicest heels, and my brand new Parisian perfume. Tonight I wanted to look like a campaign manager, because tonight I was traveling an hour and a half north to hear Bill Weld speak at Hurtz Plaza.
The venue, of course, was beautiful. Driving through the city at dusk I could already feel my heart fluttering in my chest, anticipating the day that I may live here-- or the day I may soon be employed at the Capitol. When I walked into Hurtz Plaza I was greeted by smiling faces pointing me in the direction of the event room. I hurriedly changed from my flats to my heels, not wanting to miss a moment of Weld's speech.
The event room itself was all white. There were beautiful, soaring ceilings with tall, thick columns. There were heavy, mustard curtains that draped leisurely over the windows. My favorite aspect was the addition of the chandeliers. Big, gold, glittering chandeliers cast their light over the Venetian room. I've always been something of a chandelier-lover. If I could have a chandelier in my little studio I'd jump at the chance.
I must have only been gawking at the beauty of the room for two minutes before a thunderous round of applause broke out. I scooted between attendees and found the perfect place to stand with the perfect view as Bill Weld made his way through the cheering crowd and descended halfway down the grand staircase.
After a brief (but touching) introduction, Mr. Weld began his speech. He is light. He is energetic. He is a wonderful public speaker. He tells us that being a Libertarian has made him feel free.
It is then that I start to feel the first inklings of something I have not felt in a very, very long time-- pride. I start to feel a great welling up in my heart as I realize how incredibly proud I am to be standing here, feet away from Bill Weld, as a Libertarian. I look around the room and see how many different types of people there are. All colors. All creeds. Some are dressed to the nines-- like myself. Others have chosen to represent their truest selves. Others are decked out in Gary Johnson gear. Almost everyone is wearing some kind of flair (mine is my new YAL button).
But the best thing about the people in this room, Bill Weld included, is that none of them are angry. No one is hateful, or saying ugly things about the other parties. Everyone is smiling. Everyone is laughing. Everyone is supportive. Everyone looks like one of those crystals beaming down light from the chandeliers. Everyone here is radiating beauty.
As Weld moves forward in his speech, he tells us that for him the Libertarian party has been a "long, cool glass of water." He explains that the "R's and D's" (as he refers to the parties only by their letters) are trapped in a death spiral-- only existing for the other's demise. He draws on American history, going all the way back to the Whigs and how the "Know-Nothings" broke off to form their own party. He likens them to our Trump supporters and even as he says the words the truth rings in everyone's head: the cycle has got to stop.
Something I realize as I listen to this man, this politician that I'd never heard of before a few months ago but have so much respect for now, is that he is authentic (and I bolded and underlined the word in my notes). This pair of men that I've decided to follow and vouch for, and do everything in my power to support, are the truest politicians I have ever seen. They are ambitious. They are humble. They are skilled at their jobs and for the first time in politics what you see is what you get.
He gives us an anecdote about Gary Johnson, and he tells us he once asked Johnson how he climbed all of these mountains on a fractured leg. And Johnson answered simply, "I put one leg in front of the other."
And he tells more stories that tie in with his plans, and he tells us about his time in the justice system, and he tells us about all of the time he has been able to spend getting to know the public. And although I've been confident in the Libertarian party, and certainly brazen about how Libertarian I am, his words instill a sense of peace and confidence in me that had not been there before.
Standing in this room among so many great people I feel that we truly can win. Even that a Libertarian win is imminent. Driving home, listening to this old Broadway classic, I feel that the Libertarians are the people who sing. We are the ones prepared to fight this long, noble battle for freedom. And with this crazy election, and this motley group of politicians-- this could very well be our year.
Weld tells us that when he ran for governor he polled at one percent. He was almost too far behind his opponent to have a chance at winning. He may as well have dropped out. But because of his unpopularity he had free time. And he used this time to go out to meet everyone ("and I mean everyone," he says). In the last week he made up 12 points. And he won. And he tells us it is because "people started to focus on the race."
This was my first political rally, and it was everything I'd hoped it would be and more. I walked away feeling stronger, happier, and more confident than I'd felt in months. Hearing Bill Weld speak was like a morning cup of coffee-- it gave me the boost I needed to finish the job I'd started. I left that building feeling more empowered and ready to make an even bigger effort for the Libertarian party. I left that building knowing, with every atom in my body, that I wanted to go into politics because I wanted to make a change. I left that building feeling a huge and peaceful sense of belonging. I hope that more and more Americans every day can feel this way too.
"Will you join in our crusade?/ Who will be strong and stand with me?/ Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?/ Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!"
