I love anything and everything 90s. Music especially. So when district six council member, Michael Tubbs, of the city of Stockton invoked 2Pac to introduce presidential candidate Bernie Sanders (I-VT) to the podium, I reveled silently in satisfaction while listening to the confused murmurs of the younger millennials around me.
“Long live the rose that grew from concrete,” Tubbs began. “When no one else ever cared.”
“I love this poem!” I thought to myself. As Tubbs read, I mouthed every word.
“I share this forum with 2Pac to set the stage as to why we’re here today, and why today matters,” he said after completing his recitation of “The Rose That Grew from Concrete.”
“Huh?” questioned a young woman a few feet in front of me.
I nodded and smiled. Knowing references gives you a small sense of superiority over those around you. It also dates you. Even in a crowd full of people my age, I managed to feel old.
Sanders’s connection with young people runs deep, but too young to understand a 2Pac Reference is a demographic seemingly too young even for me.
Less than 48 hours before, I received an email telling me that Sanders, the presidential candidate and United States Senator, was coming to California. I knew I had only one chance to see Sanders before his campaign met its impending burnout (or shall we say, Bernout). So I made the decision to trek an hour east down State Route 4 at 6:30 a.m. in the morning in hopes of seeing him.
I’m an independent like Sanders, but I’ve voted Democratic since my first election at the age of 19 in 2008. And like many young people, I’m an ardent supporter of self-identifying socialist Sanders. Unlike some of those my age however, I’m a party loyalist too. So if the Bern smolders, I possess no qualms voting for his Democratic opponent.
But that was neither here nor there. Today was Sanders’s day to state his case before the California primary, and my day to hear it. I pulled into a parking lot near the Weber Point Events Center in Downtown Stockton a bit after 7 a.m. I was glad to see others pulling into the lot after me. Perhaps I wasn’t as late as I thought.
I was wrong.
As I walked over to the throng of people lined up, I knew I literally had an uphill battle.
The line to get into the venue wrapped around at least three blocks: it snaked over a bridge, turned right on a city block, turned right again, and again, and again, and cut through a public park overlooking the Stockton waterfront before finally settling on a concrete path several feet below street level.
I had no idea how many people were in line, but it must have been in the thousands. Scattered across the paths were people from every walk of life: Young people, seniors, hippies (lots of them), children, Latinos, African Americans, Stockton residents, and out of towners sauntering along as if waiting for concert doors to open (and judging from the din of reggae in the air, they were). One young woman wore a polar bear suit, and stood next to a person dressed as Daft Punk.
Clinton possesses a stranglehold on the African American vote, but perhaps cold-weather animals and electronic musicians were blocs she overlooked.
It took me an hour and a half to finally get inside. Once I did, a large, carnival-like atmosphere of Sanders signs greeted me, which gave way to a large grass lawn. Here, beyond a thick crowd of supporters, stood the simple podium and lectern that would soon accommodate the Senator.
The atmosphere in the open-air venue was akin to a rock concert: young people surrounded me on all sides and live Corrido music blasted out of the speakers. Another band came on and performed covers of alternative rock bands. Only the posters with “Bernie 2016” on them gave me any indication I stood on the lawn of Weber Point, and not a music festival at Outside Lands.
Finally, Sanders emerged behind his set piece of supporters sitting on bleachers onstage, and the crowd absolutely erupted. From my vantage point behind hundreds of people, I could only grab glimpses of him. But his thick Brooklyn accent booming from the speakers proved unmistakable: I was standing in the presence of one of the most popular presidential candidates in recent history. His wardrobe, a simple blue button-up shirt and khakis, gave a familiar California business casualness to him, despite his accent betraying it.
The Senator spoke for almost an hour. Like every stump speech ever delivered, its content was entirely predictable, yet his charisma was unmatched. If you’ve seen Sanders stump on TV, this is exactly what you were expecting: break up the big banks, overturn Citizens United, act on climate change, establish free college tuition, keep jobs in America, pass a $15 minimum wage, ensure a path to citizenship for undocumented immigrants, and of course the obligatory jabs at Clinton and Trump. Approximately 50 minutes later, he waved goodbye. Immediately “Starman” by David Bowie began to play.
As I left the Events Center to find my car, it was around noon. I had gotten lost and paced desperately around four city blocks to find my car. As I went down each street in a slight panic, I passed row upon row of unkempt warehouses and gritty streets. Black and Latino high schoolers sat on the curb in a parking lot, cursing nonchalantly. Suddenly, it hit me as to why Sanders chose to come to Stockton and not other California cities like Berkeley, a living community of people in tune with Sanders’s politically active movement.
Stockton is a California city where neither the affluence of techies nor the wealth and glamor of Hollywood celebrities managed to reach. I may as well have been on the set of "Boyz N The Hood."
Sanders stands a slim chance to win the nomination. But if he wanted to truly start a revolution, it had to start in Stockton and cities like it all across the nation. Given his massive crowds at the stump (including 20,000 in Sacramento the night before), people are listening. In these communities-- and even absent a Sanders presidency-- the seeds for a revolution have already been planted. And despite the unforgiving asphalt, the flowers already bloom.
Perhaps one day roses will grow out of Stockton’s concrete.
