When I Volunteered for TPUSA
I didn't care if it was left wing, right wing or a chicken wing
“I’m starting a TPUSA chapter at school. Want to be my Vice President?” said Katie.
“Yes!” I said immediately when I heard “Vice President.” I had never been a Vice President of anything. I never even ran for office in High School. A friend and I were the school mascots but that was my singular foray into politics.
Then I realized I should probably make sure I wasn’t volunteering for a Rotary Club. After all, I know nothing about manufacturing machines.
“What’s TPUSA?”
“’Turning Point.’ It was started by this young guy, Charlie Kirk, who saw his college classmates turning to socialism and communism, so he dropped out of school and started going to campuses and educating students. We have really cool signs, like, ‘Socialism Sucks.’”
“Wait. Kids like socialism? Do they know that anything government-run doesn’t work? Have they never been to a DMV, a Post Office? Have they seen our railroads?”
Going back to school
When I volunteered cuddling babies at an NICU, I was so inspired by the nurses, I had the grand idea that I could become one at age 54. I investigated and started matriculating at South Seattle College, taking the pre req classes needed to apply to nursing school. I don’t recall how I met Katie just that she approached me with this offer.
“I’m in,” I said. “What do we do?”
“We set up a table in the quad with signs and ask students to sign up so they can be notified when we have speakers on campus. We won’t be an official club until 3 teachers sign off for us.”
Katie was inspiring and had the energy of a cheerleader. She was blonde and petite; her waist was the size of my pinky. She came from a large Catholic family and wanted to become a reporter. She was genuinely kind and positive even with a debilitating health issue from a bad fall causing random migraines.
I had no idea what I was in for
We tabled once or twice per week in the quad. We’d hold up signs and ask anyone walking by to have a chat and sign up. One gal who approached, head lowered, hoody covering half her face, asked if she could write a fake name and give us her email privately.
“I don’t want my teachers to know. I’ll get a bad grade.”
“What?” I said. My mom instinct fired up.
Katie chimed in. “Yeah, especially Dr. Smith. He’s the dean of student life and teaches a required class.”
“So, if you disagree with a teacher politically, he’ll give you a bad grade?” I said.
Katie laughed. “Welcome to South Seattle college.”
Other kids who were against socialism trickled by and signed up, most of them saying, “I can’t believe you’re here.” There was one group of bold kids who were thrilled we had a presence on campus. They were from the welding school.
“You two okay?” said a big 20-something wearing flame resistant overalls.
“We’re good,” I said. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
Katie and this big kid looked at each other as though I had been living under an excavator. I was the 54-year-old mom with two kids who were attending college in Florida and was completely unaware of any dangers. I knew the country was changing, especially in the comedy world. Various groups were offended by words that suddenly had to be changed.
I’m old and was never adept at languages (a digression)
When I use the term “hubby” for my husband I gush with love. If I refer to him as “partner,” I think of 1950s westerns which I abhorred.
When I hear cis I think of sis and that I have two of them. When someone says binary I’m reminded of math. When a smug young person corrects me and says, “They’re not black, they’re African American,” I correct them back and say, “Did you know that not all blacks in America are from Africa?” I know someone from Mexico who doesn’t like the term LatinX. And if there is a next time I’m in Paris, do I say, Parlex voux Anglaixe because now I’m really confused? I say tomato. You say tomatox. Let’s call the whole thing off.
My daughter had a friend who got a job in Seattle and during her lunch break she experienced an intervention. Her coworkers berated her for not using all the correct terms. My response to any of these word extremists? You do you. Just don’t tell me how to do me.
I will call you whatever you want. He, she, they, them, princess. Just know I will get confused and it’s not on purpose. My daughter has a friend who uses, them. Them has a sibling who also uses Them. The conversation went like this—
Where does your sibling live?
They live in Florida.
Oh, you have more than one sibling?
No. They’re the one.
So, no other siblings.
They is also my sibling.
Who’s on first?
I was really hoping they would get the reference and say, Third base. That would have been a bonding moment. But they didn’t grow up in a theatre centered home.
Back to Tabling
A few students were curious and had actual conversations with us. Mostly Katie and I were verbally abused and shouted down. Lots of name calling; I had to remind myself we weren’t at a middle school. And it wasn’t just the students. Teachers would exclaim, “There will never be a TPUSA chapter here.” One smug Marm looked at me and assumed I wasn’t a student, “You’re not supposed to be here.” I was in such shock that this peer yelled at me I couldn’t gather my words. Katie did it for me. “Carissa is a student here,” she said cheerfully.
“I need to see your ID.”
Now I was angry. “I’d like to see your credentials as well. Are you a teacher here? What gives you the right to talk to me this way?”
She huffed off.
I needed some comic relief. When I got home, I watched the movie, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
Mom shield activated
I soon realized I had an advantage over these kids. I didn’t give a sh-t anymore what people thought of me. Been there, done that. However, when I went to college in the ‘80s, I never feared a bad grade in retaliation for a belief. This was eye opening.
Soon my daughter told me that a stepfamily member, a college student, described me as, “Hard right.” The only thing I liked “hard” were my eggs in the morning and hubby at night if we weren’t too tired. Socialism and communism have never worked in the history of the world and wanting to educate others on this fact made me “hard right?”
Labels
The first thing I learned as a parent is to never label your kid. Although my kids had different talents, we tried not to say, “Dylan is the funny one,” or “Samantha is the athlete.” If we repeated these mantras, where would they go from there? It halts exploration.
Today, labels have gone to the extreme and they’re not even representative of that group or person.
Nazi, racist, Islamophobe…
And some words that were once an innocent description have become derogatory.
Colonize, Zionist, husband, owner, master bedroom…
The only labels I appreciate are the ones on my file folders.
Do slanderous labels make people feel safe or in control?
Alas, Charlie Kirk and TPUSA were given derogatory labels because someone disagreed.
Balloon Ball
The director of the Pacific Northwest TPUSA, Richard, knew that Katie and I were having a challenging time tabling and brought a 6-foot balloon ball and markers to campus. He thought it would break the icy conversations if we asked kids to write anything down on this ball.
And they did.
Fuck Charlie Kirk
TPUSA Sucks
And on.
This 54 yo mom needed to vent too so I wrote, “These kids need therapy!” and “Read a history book!”
Someone stabbed the balloon, popping it, deflating any connection, killing the conversation.
I went home and watched the movie, Ted.
ANTIFA
Occasionally, Carlos (not his name) joined us. He was an older student like me, maybe 40. He was from Venezuela and knew firsthand about socialism and gun rights. He couldn’t protect his family when a stranger killed his brother for speaking against the government. Citizens of Venezuela were not allowed firearms and were starving under socialism, eating their own pets.
Richard stopped by again. As a gay black man, someone who fit the narrative of an acceptable human, he still endured verbal abuse from students and teachers. He threw his hands in the air and said South Seattle was one of the worst colleges he had seen as far as free speech was concerned.
(During Covid Richard started a YouTube channel.)
One kid started showing up, standing a few feet away from us, and held up a homemade sign with an arrow pointing to Katie and I. It read, “Racists.”
We tried talking to him.
“Why the sign?”
Brian (don’t recall his real name) declared that TPUSA was a racist, homophobic, antisemitic organization and that capitalism was the root of all evil.
“How?” said Katie.
“The dude who started it.”
Katie told Brian that she’s engaged to a black man and lightheartedly said, “I guess I better tell my fiancé that I’m racist.”
“Guess you better.”
I chimed in, “I’m Jewish.”
“I’m from Venezuela,” said Carlos. “Socialism is bad, bro.”
Then Richard stepped in, “I’m black and gay.”
“So, you’re all tokens,” said Brian.
“Where does ‘token’ end and ‘diversity’ begin?” said Richard.
“You don’t know what’s coming,” said Brian.
“Are you Antifa?” said Katie.
Brian didn’t answer. By now students were approaching Brian, reading his sign giving us the stink eye without investigating further.
“Who raised these kids?” I asked Katie. I obsessed over what kind of parent raises her kid to jump off that cliff if a friend told her to. “I thought college kids were all about free speech, free thinking, make up your own mind. At least that’s how it was when I was in school.”
Katie frowned. It was the first time I saw her deflated.
Brian folded up his pathetic sign written on college ruled paper and pocketed it. As he was leaving, he said, “You will never have a TPUSA chapter here.”
His words were prophetic
Katie and I asked our teachers to sign off on our club. None would. They either vehemently disagreed and called themselves “Democrat Socialists” as their excuse or were worried about their positions at the school.
My math teacher, Lisa, (not her name) was Jewish and fearful of the antisemitism at school. She privately asked me after class if I was scared to wear my Jewish star necklace.
“Not at all,” I said.
She revealed her necklace which was tucked into her shirt.
“It’s beautiful. Leave it out,” I said.
She did.
I was delighted that I inspired Lisa to wear her Jewish star on display but when I asked if she would sign off on our club she declined.
“Isn’t Charlie Kirk an antisemite?”
“I wouldn’t volunteer if he was. He always states facts about Israel. He’s been there twice. He loves it.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not signing off on any clubs.”
I knew this was an excuse. Instead, I said, “I’m glad you’re wearing your Magen David.”
Katie also had a tough time finding a teacher who would sign off on our club. I was disappointed in the lack of courage amongst these educators and the ones who were perpetually angry called themselves, “Democrat Socialists.” I had never heard this term before. Given their irate personalities and the manner they treated others who had a different opinion I designated it the party of instant coffee drinkers—Inauthentic and tastes bitter.
On the MLK holiday (Martin Luther King) there was a school wide program that had nothing to do with MLK but instead taught CRT- Critical Race Theory. All I knew about CRT was that I should feel guilty for being white. Screw that. Do you know how many years of therapy it took me just to like myself?
As students trickled in for a math lesson, Lisa asked if they would like to skip class and attend this presentation.
These 18–20-year-olds were excited to attend. I had already pulled my books and notebook from my tote, ready to learn. I stood up and said, “What does this event have to do with math?”
The students turned to me. If looks could maim, I would have lost my arms.
The class went to the political program that had nothing to do with education. I told Lisa that I was disappointed. I had paid a lot of money for these classes. I went home and studied.
Within a couple weeks of tabling, the administration kicked Katie and I off campus, telling us we weren’t allowed to table in the quad area. Katie worked part time, was a full-time student and occasionally missed work, class and tabling because of a migraine. As the President of the club, she had to take the time to contact a lawyer at TPUSA who by the time she connected with one, told her it was a public space, and we had every right to be there. We decided to pick our battles carefully and began tabling outside the front of the school. We were given another excuse not to table there. We were blocking the entrance, even though we set up on the side of the doors. By now, administrators brought campus security with them as though we were a threat.
Suddenly there was an ANTIFA table in the quad. Katie and I returned to the quad again, lugging our heavy folding tables, setting them up, taping signs to the tables, and stood across from them. Brian was there gloating as students flocked to their table like pigeons and leftovers. The kids who wanted to engage with us were shouted down by this ANTIFA mob.
“What does Antifa stand for?” I asked Katie.
“Antifascist.”
“But they’re the ones who are fascists. They don’t want us to speak.”
As soon as I got home, I watched the comedy, Role Models.
The last time tabling
I had breast cancer the prior year and was getting checkups regularly. One late afternoon I had to leave early for a doctor’s appointment. I usually helped Katie clean up and load her car.
“No worries. I got this,” she said.
Earlier, a guy in serious need of a comb grabbed a sign, ripped it apart and cursed us. Katie told him that the sign was private property, and she would call the police if he did it again. He left us alone and we thought that was the end of Mr. No-comb.
I went to my appointment and Katie left about an hour later. In the midst of loading her trunk, walking back and forth across the parking lot to retrieve the heavy folding tables, stacks of signs... Mr. No-comb tried to run down Katie with his car. She hid behind any parked cars or bushes she could find hoping this crazy mother-f would give up and leave. Finally, she made it back inside the building and called campus security.
She was shaken.
Because there was no video proof, Mr. No-comb was released with a warning.
Katie was interviewed on several News programs and in newspapers and soon became a journalist because of her own story and self-reporting. I guess one might see the positive in that she fell into her dream career albeit having almost been severely hurt or killed.
While I never met Charlie Kirk, the people who knew him, including Richard, spoke effusively of him. He was someone who loved life and loved communicating with people. Personally, I didn’t agree with everything he stood for, but I don’t agree with everything my husband says either! My priority was teaching kids facts about Socialism, Israel, the right to bear arms legally and safely and most of all, free speech.
I was heartbroken when Charlie Kirk was murdered last week. He was a husband and dad of two little kids who will never know him. And whether you agreed with him a lot or not at all– he was honest about his POV, took responsibility for it, and was zealous to hear from, debate respectfully and talk with anyone who was willing. To me, that sounds like what we should all aspire to. Passion, belief and resolve are not the same things as hate, vitriol, violence and defamation.
People like to quote Charlie Kirk out of context. Here’s the full transcript about firearm ownership. (Thx
)This IG host explains Charlie perfectly.
I’m hoping in the comments you will “be like Charlie.”
Hi Carissa. I am progressive, and I have done a bunch of research since Charlie’s unfortunate death which has revealed how frequently his words are taken out of context to provoke rage. I now feel a responsibility to find where a quote came from (from ANYONE) and watch the entire conversation to get a better understanding of what was actually being said. I wish more people would do this. I pointed out a misquote in a comment thread two days ago and was immediately dubbed a nazi sympathizer. It’s so sad because if they had stuck around for a discussion, they would have discovered I am, in fact, an ally.
I do want to ask, because I have friends in Holland, which is a successful example of a socialist country, why you feel it “has never worked.” But I am asking to self educate and not to provoke an argument.
It saddens me to hear stories of intolerance in educational settings. My children attended a Christian high school. My son questioned Christian faith. The teachers encouraged him to speak up and raise challenging questions. They argued that asking tough questions and having the freedom to speak openly and honestly was the only way to grow in your faith. If they had shut him down and levied punitive responses, who knows how he’d feel about religion today. He still doesn’t have a Christian or any other religious faith that I’m aware of, but I know that those teacher’s tolerance and willingness to allow him to speak freely helped him keep an open mind. I believe this has helped him treat others with opposing viewpoints in the same manner. Kids are highly impressionable and do stupid things. I know, because I was once one of them, too. But adult faculty and administrators doing that? That’s so utterly disappointing.