Election Fears? “Trump” them with action: join me on November 27th for the Day of Documents
This post started as a rant. I was about to complain that I’m receiving email after email from startups about the election results. Some are awkwardly attempting to sympathize, some are openly mourning, and others, unbelievably, are boasting that their stupid apps will somehow fix the issue:
But then I realized that a post about how other people are sitting on their asses writing and bitching would require me to… sit on my ass writing and bitching. Which is a longer way of saying that I would be a complete hypocrite.
So here’s what I’m going to do. And I’d like to ask you to join me.
I don’t have a lot of money to donate. I don’t have tons of time to volunteer. I don’t have special skills or legal knowledge to fight the political system.
You know what I do have? A printer.
…And envelopes. And stamps. And I’m willing to share.
So whether you’re a potential citizen,
Application for Naturalization PDF (Form n-400) 20 pages + 18 pages instructions
a gay fiancé,
San Francisco Public Marriage License 1 page + 1 page instructions
an unregistered voter,
California Online Voter Registration only needs printing without a CA drivers license
a lgbt+ parent,
a trans person with incorrect markers,
Medical Certification and Authorization of Gender Change (Form DL 329) 1 page + 1 page instructions
or a member of any number of suddenly uncertain groups, you can come to my house on November 27th and print out whatever papers you need.
I’ll provide some paper. I have a few stamps. I have one backup ink cartridge. If anyone feels like adding to my collection, I’ll write you a thank you note.
I’m in San Francisco, and my email is firstname.lastname@example.org. If you’d like to attend, or hold your own Day of Documents, shoot me an email and we’ll schedule and share resources.
Thank you for reading. Even if you don’t participate, you can help by favoriting this piece so that more people see it. Just click the hollow heart below or to the side of this post.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she / With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, / I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”