the dark arch-queen of butterflies

Going door-to-door is an extraordinary experience. You see demographics break down into actual faces, stories, shabby or manicured front yards, see subdivisions and slums, see people who are clear and fierce or indifferent or confused about the upcoming election. You meet people where they are, and where some of them are is in fear of the man of the house.

My friend Melody had a Nevada man who never turned off his leaf-blower roar at her over the din, “This is a RED house! This house is Republican!”

Melody told me: “I say I’ve come by to speak to Donna. ‘No, she doesn’t want to speak to you.’ I consider saying, ‘Looks like this house is kind of purple, since Donna is a Democrat.’ But then I think, ‘Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe she just goes into that booth and votes the way she wants without telling him.’ But what if she doesn’t go into a booth? What if they vote at the kitchen table? Does he supervise her ballot? Is she afraid to fill it out according to her own wishes rather than his?”

No one knows to what extent this domination may prevent women from voting according to their own beliefs and agendas or participating at all.

Of course there are plenty of rightwing women who are enthusiastically voting for the conservative of their choice, but when you look at the enormous gender gaps between Democrats and Republicans or hear the myriad door-to-door stories, you recognize that there are many marriages between Democratic women and Republican men, and many Republican men who intend to control their wives’ political expression.

The problem matters for voting rights whether or not it influences outcomes, and it’s also a reminder that many women are not free and equal in their domestic lives. Yet another canvasser reported that one of those husbands, this time in Turlock, California, told her, “And if she needs to know how to vote, I’ll just take her in the back and beat her.” He was sort of joking but sort of not.