There will be hundreds of conversations today about why voting matters or doesn't--those of us who have reasons for voting or consciously not voting have our own compelling arguments (I'm not even acknowledging the apathetic masses who are too busy watching TV to have an opinoin or take any action whatsoever), and I'm sure many can state their cases in a more articulate fashion than I can. I believe 100% in voting and don't miss any elections, even midterms and local ones, and Nate is impressive in his insistence on voting his conscience (meaning mostly third party voting no matter how tight the races are--take that, Dems!) . This election promises to be a better voting experience for us because it looks like I won't end up too depressed and thus inscreasingly drunk as I watch the returns tonight AND we get to take Clementine for the very first time to the polls. You better believe there will be pictures.
On my way to work this morning, I was thinking about why I vote and how I can teach Clementine the importance of it, apart from dragging her to the sleazy Masonic Temple in our neighborhood where I'm pretty sure the poll workers are drunk and not trustworthy. I was thinking about my first voting experience, just 18 and happy to be standing in the lobby of my junior high. My mother, who worked for a Republican Congressman for 12 years (he was pretty moderate, so I didn't have a problem voting for him--I saw it as ultimately voting for myself since he helped my mom pay the bills), sent me to the polls with notes on which judges to vote for. Although my political conscience was still a bit nascent, I knew Mom and I weren't in step politically and used the list she sent me as a DO NOT vote list, adding the rush of outright rebellion against one of my parents to the rush of voting. It was a potent cocktail, made better only by my mother's rage when I told her what I'd done. OK, so it was immature and maybe not the most informed way to vote, but it was my first time and I had a thing or two to learn.
These days, my mom's opinion doesn't hold the same power for me--I'd even be happy to know we lined up on some issues or candidates. I find it incredibly frustrating to talk to her about politics because she goes into insta-rage at even the slightest disagreement. I like political discourse and love having reasoned debate (there's a limit, I know, but a little can be very stimulating), but my mom can't even handle a 4-second conversation on what it means to Hillary if Barak runs. She dissolves into a litany of cussing and spitting at the merest mention of Hillary's name and retreats, as so many Republican hardcores I talk to seem to, behind a screen of soundbytes and knee-jerk reactions.
What worries me about all this is that all the teasing I take from my family about raising an Alex P. Keaton-esque child could actually come true. If my political consciousness was somehow shaped in opposition to my mom, does that mean darling C today will learn the fastest way to get a rise out of me is to point to the conservatives on the ballot and beg me to choose that? Will her teenage rebellion take the shape of supporting big business and anti-woman, anti-gay, anti-minority legislation? Pierce and tattoo away, little love, just don't ever vote for another Bush.
2 comments:
I hear you, sister. I like to think (probably arrogantly) that my kids will be raised in a household where we talk about the issues and why we're voting a particular way, but that we don't discourage their thoughts. Unless they're anti-woman, anti-gay, or anti-minority. And then I hope we've instilled a sense of fairness in them that is second-nature and not related to their feelings about me.
By the way, I think it's incredibly sweet and kind of hilarious that part of your teenage rebellion was vote-related.
Come on, C-Dogs has more common sense than to vote for a Bush. She will, however be a McDonald's eating, Disney princess loving, little voter...
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