One by one, the women shared their stories.
A middle-aged woman told how her developmentally disabled sister was sexually assaulted at work, and said having a child would “destroy her.” One operating room nurse wondered how to care for pregnant patients now that certain procedures are illegal. Another elderly woman recalled taking her college friend to an “inhumane” abortion procedure in a back alley.
As they spoke, some began wiping tears. But the women gathered in folding chairs at Harris’ campaign office, tucked away in a shopping mall in suburban Wisconsin, were determined. The group was about 20 volunteers, mostly women, who came together for a specific purpose. It’s about learning how to go door to door with our experiences.
“How do we actually use the story we just told?” asked Harris campaign organizer Sammy Reisen, standing in front of a wall of windows covered in Democratic campaign signs. Ta. “We elect Vice President Harris and Governor Tim Walz.”
These political conversations only took place in the final stages of the last presidential election, when abortion rights were barely mentioned last time Democrats fought to prevent former President Donald J. Trump from being re-elected. There wasn’t. But two years after the Roe v. Wade reversal, the Harris campaign sees women and their experiences as one of its most powerful political weapons in the bitter race.
For months, Democrats have been training dozens of volunteers across battleground states to personally testify to the impact of Republican-led abortion restrictions enacted across the country since President Roe V. Wade’s ouster two years ago. I’ve done it. Some have appeared in television ads or held high-profile positions that drew gasps from the audience during a prime-time speech at the Democratic National Convention. Many others share their stories in less obvious ways, such as social media posts or local events.
And there are women in this room in Wisconsin. Although they have never made headlines for their advocacy for abortion rights, they all say they have a deep connection to the issue. The Harris campaign is turning them into a hyperlocal organizing force that will drive friends, family, and neighbors to the polls.
The strategy is an attempt to cut through the divisive election noise by casting the abortion debate in relatable and painful terms. Harris aides say a key part of their efforts will include intimate appeals to make the issue feel personal to voters.
This tactic is crucial for Harris, who has been more vocal in championing abortion rights than any other presidential candidate in history. She has taken this issue as a central rallying cry for her candidacy, and hopes to garner more support from women to offset the persistent gap with young black and Latino men that polls show. .
“People identify with most of these stories, whether it’s because they had a similar experience when they were pregnant or because they were afraid of these things when they were pregnant,” said Molly Murphy, a pollster for Harris’ campaign. I can do that,” he said. “There’s a lot of empathy that comes from that, and you bring that out of political conversations.”
Versions of this strategy have been adopted across the Democratic Party. Candidates for Congress and the Senate have aired ads featuring women who had to leave the state for abortions or faced life-threatening complications during their pregnancies. During Tuesday night’s vice presidential debate, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz spoke about the stories of women living with the effects of abortion restrictions enacted by Republicans since Roe was overturned, and the stories of Georgia women who died. He brought up the story of a woman named Amber Thurman. Walz warned that far more women will face similar dire situations if Trump wins the White House.
Democratic strategists believe that direct appeal from ordinary women, rather than activists, could help Ms. Harris win over more white women without college degrees. This group has supported Mr. Trump by double-digit margins in the past two elections, and this tendency is strong. Don’t get too involved in politics.
The stories of women facing difficult circumstances are “very emotionally compelling,” said Nicole McCleskey, a Republican pollster who has conducted focus groups measuring opinions on abortion. . But she argues that they may not be politically decisive.
Voters in states like Michigan and Wisconsin, where abortion rights are currently protected, may not hesitate to prioritize economic issues. And in Arizona, she says, a ballot referendum that codified the state’s constitutional right to abortion means voters can support abortion rights while supporting Trump.
“Voters have a different perspective on this issue than they did in 2022. They’ve been wrestling with this issue for two years, and they’re looking at the bigger picture on other issues,” she said.
Still, even among traditionally conservative voters, the model for Democratic tactics works to some degree.
In 2023, Kentucky Democratic Gov. Andy Beshear is running for re-election in the red state and has released an ad featuring Hadley Duvall, who was raped and impregnated by her stepfather as a 12-year-old girl. The ad attacked opponents for supporting rape, incest, and the state’s new ban on abortion, with no exceptions for the life of the mother. Duvall, now a young woman, expressed fear that today she might have had to carry her rapist’s child on her back.
When the campaign tested the ads’ effectiveness, Beshear found that they were not among women, but among traditionally conservative voters, including men without four-year degrees, older voters, and people living in more rural areas. It turned out that it received the most support among people. state.
“The Democratic-leaning demographic groups are where people moved the most,” said Eric Hyers, Beshear’s campaign manager. “Such an ad would have more impact than a faceless narrator making a general pro-choice argument.”
Harris’ campaign hopes to get these stories in front of voters in battleground states.
In Wisconsin, campaign volunteers learned from the example of Kate Cox, who rose to prominence as an abortion rights activist after suing Texas for the right to terminate an unviable pregnancy. Since then, she has become a prominent ally of Harris’s cause, campaigning across the country, helping train other volunteers, and even announcing she was pregnant again during the delegate roll call at the party’s national convention. .
Cox said she has become friends through meals and emails with other women who have become prominent speakers on the issue. Among them is Amanda Zulawski, who also sued the state of Texas over its abortion laws and told her story from the convention stage. Too.
Cox said in an interview that being diagnosed with a fatal genetic disease and leaving the state for abortion care was not easy. But she told the Wisconsin volunteers that she had found purpose in her suffering: to elect Harris.
“I went from feeling alone to feeling part of a movement, a movement across the country that is turning our pain into action and making our voices heard.” she said.
After Cox’s speech, campaign organizer Leisen briefed volunteers on the contrast between the campaign’s message on abortion rights and Trump’s campaign message.
After that, it was time for the main part of the training. Participants spent several minutes writing down their stories, creating a kind of testimonial about their experiences with pregnancy, childbirth, and abortion rights.
The women then worked in pairs to share stories of missed periods, miscarriages, back alley abortions and sexual assault.
Reisen reminded participants and told them to download a campaign organizing app, where they could find a way to recruit voters.
Sandy Guyer, 61, a former copywriter, described how she was sitting in a doctor’s office more than 30 years ago when she received the news that she had an ectopic pregnancy.
“I didn’t think about my right to have an abortion at the time, because I didn’t want an abortion, I wanted a child,” she said. “I’m here today because I think it’s my right.”
As volunteers scrolled through the program on their phones, Carly Eaton, a mother of two young daughters, started crying. She recalled the pain she felt during her own miscarriage in 2020, when she entered the emergency room alone to comply with COVID-19 regulations.
Eaton, 38, had planned to spend the remaining weeks leading up to Election Day campaigning for Harris, following the script she learned in training.
“When you go through a miscarriage and understand what it feels like, it makes it feel really personal,” said Eaton, who lives in Waunakee, a suburb of Madison. “This is about me and what I can do and what my daughters can do.”
