Updated (4/13/09): With Al Franken finally winning the Minnesota Senate seat, thus concludes the saga of the 2008 election. I wanted to revisit this post from Election Day, November 4. I remember writing this piece on Monday night, staying up well past 4 AM on Tuesday to gather all my thoughts about the upcoming election (the official timestamp on this is 7:57 AM EST, but I was in Los Angeles at the time). That night, I had been supremely afraid that regardless of the outcome, our country would be polarized in choosing a new President–I myself had threatened to move to Canada if McPalin won. It’s interesting to reflect back on the election now, almost five months later. I recall the heated discussions I had about the candidates’ economic policies. I remember sending out fiery emails directed at my closest friends. I even recall talking up an elderly gentleman at a nightclub in LA. Upon learning he was from Florida, I passionately implored the man to send in an absentee ballot… and I even gave him my phone number (bad idea). Now that the dust has settled, I think this post still accurately reflects my feelings about politics as a whole: its genesis is unique to us all as individuals, but its consequences–impassioned debate, renewed social interest, and mobilizing for change–are universal.
Until very recently, I had never been that political. Having been too young to remember George H.W. Bush, I essentially grew up during the Clinton administration. Thus, controversy and scandal marred my perception of politics in the formative years of my life. I was thirteen when the Lewinsky scandal broke, and, like many other thirteen-year olds at the time, I developed a rather cynical judgment of politicians. My views were reinforced–and most likely helped–by my parents’ own cynicism. My mother and father had immigrated to this country separately in the early ’70s to attend graduate school at Indiana University. They met serendipitously at IU, finding out that they had once been kindergarten classmates. After marrying and graduating, my parents moved eastward to Massachusetts to raise their young daughter. American politics at the time was foreign to them. During grad school, their perception of U.S. politics had been molded by classmates who had lived through the polarizing ’60s, the civil rights movement, and Vietnam. Government and party were ever-changing characters: at times hero, at times villain. Thus, when my parents became American citizens, they registered to vote as independents. My mother favored candidates with strong morals, and my father favored candidates that pissed off my mother. My childhood was one that was thoroughly apolitical. With regards to politics, apathy towards candidates was almost deemed to be more reasonable than hope.
The first election I took an interest in was 2000. For some reason, I was immediately put off by Al Gore and his highfalutin “locked box” rhetoric and “I invented the Internet” claims. The way I considered it, politics was less about the issues and more about the candidates themselves. Al Gore was a stuffy elitist, while Bush was an easygoing, sensible everyman (or so I thought). Times were good, the economy was strong, and America was still a well-respected leader in the world. Had I been old enough to vote, I may very well have voted for Bush back then. Overall, though, neither candidate inspired me to care much about the outcome. When Bush was finally announced as the winner of Florida, I remember having an entirely neutral feeling about it all.
When I turned eighteen, I registered to vote as an independent. My first opportunity to cast a major ballot came in 2004, in a markedly different presidential election than the one four years ago. In the post-9/11 world, we were facing a war, terrorism abroad, and a crisis of national security. My own understanding of American politics and government had matured since 2000. Whereas previously I had based my preference solely on the likability of a candidate, I now realized that there were more important issues at stake. Our country was at war. The power of the president had been expanded. Four years of American jingoism and cowboy politics was enough. Although I did not personally like Kerry as a candidate, I found myself firmly in the company of the anti-Bush moderates.
2004 was disappointing, but it was also a personal revelation of sorts.
After the election, I found myself becoming more aware of politics. I started to discern the conservative principles within the economics taught by my college professors (“taxes are bad”). I began to notice the bubble of social liberalism that seemed to swell only within the gates of Cambridge. I remember getting into an argument with the president of the Republican Club about the war. I had to break up an emotional discussion about abortion in the dining hall. On spring break in Cancun, six of my closest friends got into a heated battle about affirmative action while drinking margaritas at the pool. At that point, I realized that politics wasn’t just a ho-hum dinner table topic like it’d been treated at my house; instead, for many people, politics were real, inflammatory, emotional, and raw.
I can see now that my background and upbringing laid the foundation for my political predisposition. The experience of my parents instilled tolerance, moderation, and a general skepticism. As I grew older, I came to develop ideals that were shaped by these base values. Throughout my discussions, arguments, and fights, I started to piece together the strata of my own political views. My experiences in college and beyond have further informed my politics.
So, that is my personal journey into the world of politics, which has led me to the 2008 election.
During this presidential campaign, I have had frequent, impassioned exchanges with close friends over our differences in choice for president. (I even berated a friend–a McCain supporter–on the streets outside of Les Deux at 2 AM while eating a street-meat hot dog… low point). Although these fights were trivial at the outset, they often felt inherently personal. After all, we each had our own unique stories that had shaped our ideals. Influences such as family, religion, education, race and wealth informed our politics, to varying degrees. Thus, attacks on our politics seemed almost like personal attacks on our values, experiences, and perspectives on how we see the world. It almost became a tale of us vs. them, of good vs. evil.
But, I often need to be reminded that even though politics can signal differences in values, these differences do not necessarily mean that Democrats and Republicans can’t be friends, lovers, or soul mates. Differences cannot trump friendships or shared experiences.
So with that in mind, even if you’re a hardcore Obamanite, please reach out across the aisle today and shake hands with a McCainiac at the polls. If you’re a Palin fan, hug someone wearing a Barack the Vote shirt. If we do that today, we can unite together as Americans with common stories but perhaps differing opinions. We can present our politics as giving us a menu of choices, not a good vs. evil parable. We can show off our democracy around the world, and get our youth excited about our political leaders. Then regardless of the election outcome, we will all have already won.
FRESH is BACK 