My side of the fence
Cindy on October 12th, 2008
Growing up in the 1960s, I was fed the idea that “nice people” didn’t discuss religion or politics in public. Ever. At the family dinner table, I once asked my parents to reveal their candidates for an upcoming election. I was told in no uncertain terms that it was none of my business — though I did get the impression that my folks weren’t all that keen on the Kennedy clan.
My father, who later confessed that he was a registered Republican, agreed that Thomas Jefferson was right about the need for “a wall between church and state.” But for the most part, Dad never debated loaded political issues at family gatherings or cocktail parties. Because of that, I suppose, I’m still uncomfortable about expressing my political views in public — especially in print.
Which is odd, really, for someone who enrolled in journalism school in the radical 1970s and was somewhat politically active. At the time, Michigan State University was a safe place in which to express or refute opinions on controversial topics such as abortion, diversity, date rape, gay partnership, global warming or animal rights. During my senior year, I did an independent study on environmental issues and helped produced a documentary on recycling. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder what happened to the passionate young woman I was.
But once I graduated college and joined the work force in the 1980s, discussing politics was something I did only with my closest friends. And even then, I felt vaguely uneasy.
Today, it doesn’t help that I’m a closet Democrat living in a politically conservative neighborhood where people rely on their priests or pastors to tell them how to vote. Earlier this fall, a neighbor who just assumed I was a conservative voter reminded me that “liberals have no family values.” Of course, I was deeply offended. After all, I’ve been happily married to the same man for 27 years, raised a solid family, attended church, provided childcare for the neighborhood kids, taken care of my aging mother, and spearheaded our Neighborhood Watch program. Not to mention all the newspaper and magazine columns I’ve written in celebration of home and family.
Yet I didn’t say a word in response. I let her ramble on. And now I’m ashamed that I wasn’t bold enough to speak out and declare my liberal position. (Worse yet, this has happened to me more than once.) Why on earth did I feel I had no right to speak my own political truth — while my Republican neighbor clearly felt entitled to campaign for hers? As author Alice Walker reminds us, “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”
Like everyone else, I’m terribly worried about the future of our beleaguered country. Our upcoming election in November will be one of the most important events in American history. And so, last month, I finally made the decision to break my code of silence. When friends or colleagues ask for my honest opinion on hot-button issues, now they get an earful instead of my usual vague response.
A few conservative friends have distanced themselves from me, or worse, have resorted to sending e-mails bearing dubious or inflammatory messages, such as, “Obama is the anti-Christ.” It’s been decades since bigotry cast its long shadow on my community and country — but here is it again, and it breaks my heart.
Last month I drove to our local Democratic party headquarters and wrote a check. I volunteered to help in the campaign where I am needed. And while I was at it, I picked up several large Obama signs on my way out. Pulling into my driveway at home, I rallied my inner political college girl and pulled those signs out of the trunk. I planted them squarely in my front yard — where everyone can see them. – Cindy La Ferle
–Portions of this post originally appeared last month on the Michigan Women’s Forum and 50-something Moms blog.–
