I’ll admit it. After a long Metro North ride from New Haven to New York City, I was listening to a guilty vice: the Spice Girls’ “Essentials” album. By the time I had arrived in Grand Central and stood waiting for the Subway to visit my aunt and her family, it was close to 3:00 a.m. I was exhausted and, quite simply, was at the end of my rope. The election was still weeks away, and my excitement had hit a slump after midterms, papers and a few humbling “Intro to French” tests. The days until the most important election of my lifetime were counting down, but it slowly began to recede to the back burner. 

As the doors closed to the car, a fellow late-night traveler started playing Beyoncé’s “Freedom” from across the platform. I paused from my frantic search for my keys as memories flooded back. Memories of late nights building canvass packets, early morning confirmation calls, notifications from Signal and, of course, joy. 

Specifically joy from over the summer, where I had the unique opportunity to both work on organizing efforts supporting the Harris-Walz campaign and to attend the Democratic National Committee Convention. 

I am no stranger to organizing. My first semester at Yale was the first time in three years I had not been working on a political campaign. My suitemate joked that I was going through campaign withdrawal. Campaign work has brought some of my closest friends, taught me invaluable lessons on connection and shown me the importance of joy. 

My first day of work in my hometown’s field office promised to be an exciting return to the joy of organizing. My coworker and I were deep in the weeds of preparing for my first event in the campaign office: a Biden-Trump debate watch party, a debate that would soon become notorious with the late-July ticket switch. 

But, 15 minutes into the debate, a climate of anxiety rather than joy filled our field office. Calls with local stakeholders — ones that were typically energizing — turned into criticisms and venting. The typical excitement to organize and get to work was replaced by defeat and exhaustion. Yet, at every door and on every phone call, I still found moments of joy and connection: the first-time voter, the lifelong Democrat, the recent convert. 

Then, one day on the doors, I could feel my phone repeatedly buzzing while talking to a voter about the values she looks for in a candidate. Suddenly, we were interrupted by her teenage daughter bearing news of President Biden’s decision to no longer seek re-election. For the rest of July 21, my phone did not stop buzzing. Volunteers who had previously been shy to get on the doors were calling and asking how to canvass. Where could they find yard signs? Who was on the short list for VP? When would we start phone banking for Kamala? Previously divided groups came together for a greater cause. The joy had made a comeback. 

I met hundreds of volunteers, who will forever stick with me: the former constitutional lawyer who was on the doors for the sanctity of democracy, the former call center operator making hundreds of calls for her nieces and the visiting lecturer knocking to ensure America’s democracy does not follow the route of the corrupt governments she studies. On my first canvass for Harris, the last door of the night swung open hesitantly. I do not think of the 13 miles I walked or the pounds of yard signs I lugged that day. I think of this voter who called her sister while I was at the door so they could share their joy on speaker phone and figure out how to volunteer together. 

Before returning to New Haven for the school year, I traveled to Chicago to attend the DNC Convention, along with my mom, a fellow campaign volunteer. Joy was everywhere in Chicago. Everyone was in the room, fired up and ready to go. People felt purposeful and a sense of belonging. The night Oprah made her surprise cameo, my seatmates were two 80-year-old sisters, the national legal director of Women for Harris, two organizers from the National Education Association and a United Auto Workers member.  

That broken speaker in the subway that night reminded me that I still find joy. 

Building connection with volunteers and voters keeps me going. Connection reminds me why I love organizing and campaign work, as there is no better way to find joy and be present than being in a crowd watching Harris’ town halls, attending Yalies for Harris’ phone banks or being on the road canvassing with the Yale College Democrats. 

We are in the final, joyful stretch. We have less than a week until election day, and every moment counts. Now, more than ever, I feel called to join canvassers on the doors and on the phones. I hope others will follow suit. Bring joy to the doors, bring joy to yourself and most importantly, bring joy to the polls on Nov. 5. 

JACK L. DOZIER is a sophomore in Saybrook College studying political science. He is an experienced campaign staffer and writes about civic engagement, community organizing and political trends in his column, Connection vs. Conviction. He can be reached at jack.dozier@yale.edu.