My political voice often goes unheard in California. After all, I'm pro-capitalist, anti-socialist, anti-big government, and I tend to view unions with a bit of skepticism. Wait! Don't jump! I know what you're thinking, but before you jump to conclusions let me state that I am a registered Democrat. Yes, it's true.
I registered as soon as I turned eighteen - actually, let me clarify. I did not run out into the streets and break into the registrar of voters' office at the stroke of midnight. At the first opportunity I registered, on a business day and regular office hours allowing. I could not wait to register, I had been anticipating that moment, patriotism having been instilled from my father, a first generation Mexican American who served in WW2. Oh, and in case anyone is getting hung up on the math, my father was 58 when I was born, so it is not that I'm terribly old, I guess it's more that he was. (Yes, I'm gender female, and though I count aging the least amongst my vanities, apparently, there is some resistance after all.) However, back to my registration and proudly anointing myself a Democrat in the footsteps of my very proud, veteran father.
For the most part I voted Democrat, however, from very early on there were a few discrepancies on certain issues. At these times I voted conservatively, but faithfully followed Democratic candidates. Clinton? Voted twice. Er, both terms, mind you, no sneaking around the curtains to duck into another booth as if I was back in junior high stretching my movie dollars by hitting every theatre in the complex. Yet those pesky issues, not to mention propositions that seem to take my money for a "much needed" enterprise and somehow only ensured that government grew bigger, continued to create a distance between my party and myself. These props and agendas left me confused - weren't the conservatives the ones who took money from the poor? Of which I most certainly was? But let's face it, the props were easy enough to vote against and still maintain my party line, but then came the last straw:
Al Gore
This was the candidate I was supposed to vote for?! Whaaaaaaat?! This was the best we could do?!
Well, there was nothing for it. I began an intensive look at both candidates, and realized that the best the other side could do was George W. Bush. Who knew that name would become synonymous with failure? With war? Yes, I voted for him. And if I had to do over again? Well, if Al Gore was once more my other option George would have my vote one more time. Sometimes, we are left with the best of a bad situation, and in such cases, the D or R (or any other letter as long as it does not stand for communist or socialist) should not be the end all factor. The D does not necessarily stand for your best interest.
Therein lies the true revelation of my political journey. The Democratic Party was no longer my father's Democratic Party. As it became "progressive" and more "liberal", it moved "progressively" away about giving the underprivileged an unheard a voice. Or perhaps that was all a ruse to begin with, and I just can't bring myself to admit my father and I were duped. Certainly, I can look back at the generations before I could vote, and see the apathy, the patronizing stance for those "who cannot do for themselves", and the violation of the trust of those voters considering what they believe this party stand for.
I do not make these statements blithely nor blindly. I research tirelessly, often dejectedly, before I reach my conclusions. I will gladly share those facts and their sources on this blog so that you may do your own research and come to your own conclusion, since, of course, my conclusions are peppered with my opinions. But the facts themselves cannot be ignored. The facts themselves should never be ignored.
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