Disillusionment By Anne Fricke
When I met my husband, I was reading The Communist Manifesto. I couldn’t tell you much about it now, my memories awash in the distance of time. Back then I was seeking to better understand society. I was looking for something else from my government and my society, something more inclusive, more justice-oriented, something inspiring. My husband is twelve years older than me and was past the age and innocence of young idealism. (That was part of the attraction, but that’s another story.)
My first voting experience happened the year I moved to California from the Midwest. Up to that point, I hadn’t concerned myself with politics, a condition remedied by moving to a liberal west coast state. By the time the 2000 presidential election came around, I was happily anticipating my debut as a participating citizen in our democracy. My excitement would quickly devolve into frustration and mistrust.
It didn’t make sense. Who and what was the Electoral College, and how could their votes override ours? Our new president was not elected by the people but by a select elite few. The margin of popular votes was thin, but surely that should have been enough to sway them in Gore’s direction.
I had conversations about this turn of events often with my fellow college students. We all felt similarly disenchanted. A few years later, the topic came up with my future husband. I mentioned the 2000 election and proudly reported I had voted third party. I got a response I had never expected.
“You helped Bush win.”
“What? No! Bush won because it went to the courts, he won because the system is corrupt,” I said. I spouted on about tampered voting machines, recounts, hanging chads, and Florida’s racism.
In his opinion, my vote for a third party was basically a vote for Bush, one that should have gone to Gore. While Gore still received the most votes, it was not by a wide margin. Perhaps if Gore had won all the third party votes, then the margin would have been such that a recount in Florida wouldn’t have been necessary, or the Electoral College would’ve been forced to vote with the people. I started to see his point to a degree, begrudgingly. But it certainly wasn’t fair.
In the 2008 presidential election, I voted Democratic for the first time. Finally, there was a candidate who was intelligent, genuinely kind, social-minded, and inspiring. I went all in and became a full-fledged Obama supporter. Through his eight years of presidency, I had a confidence in my government that I had never felt before. I didn’t agree with everything that Obama supported or enacted; I disagreed with and felt shame for some of his decisions. But I always knew he was an intelligent, well-meaning, and respectable man who could be trusted. I didn’t know how quickly that faith could be shattered.
She was not my first choice. She was not my second choice. She was better than the alternative, and I based my vote on that opinion alone. Hearing people say they were voting third party, or worse, not voting at all, increased my fear that a reality TV star would win the election. I’d become someone that my younger, idealistic self would have heavily criticized. I was jaded.
Not without reason, mind you.
I honestly don’t know if this is the right tactic. There is still a part of me who wants to vote solely on my beliefs, who wants to continue to vote for third party in defiance of the stagnation of the two-party system. Things need to change. Perhaps in that way, I am still my younger self. I still have hope that our government will become more inclusive and justice-oriented. I still long to live in a country where the morality of the people includes kindness to everyone, support and services for all who need it, and basic human decency. While I will still show up at every election and exercise my right as a citizen of a democratic nation, I know it will not be enough.
Living in a free, just, and fair democratic society is the ideal, not the reality. I am under no delusion that there’s a candidate that can mend all the societal problems of our day. So I’ll continue to vote, but I’ll vote with a strategy. That means possibly not voting for the candidate who best represents my values, but the one least likely to destroy the democratic foundation of our society. To see this vision through, to make it a reality, voting is only just the beginning.
My first voting experience happened the year I moved to California from the Midwest. Up to that point, I hadn’t concerned myself with politics, a condition remedied by moving to a liberal west coast state. By the time the 2000 presidential election came around, I was happily anticipating my debut as a participating citizen in our democracy. My excitement would quickly devolve into frustration and mistrust.
* * *
For many of us, the way that election unfolded yanked the wool from our eyes and allowed us to see the corruption and flaws embedded in our current voting system. Our trust and passion in this crucial element of democracy—voting—was tied to the back of a pick-up and dragged down a gravel road for a month. And in the end, the less popular candidate, the one who received fewer votes from the people of this country, won the presidency.It didn’t make sense. Who and what was the Electoral College, and how could their votes override ours? Our new president was not elected by the people but by a select elite few. The margin of popular votes was thin, but surely that should have been enough to sway them in Gore’s direction.
I had conversations about this turn of events often with my fellow college students. We all felt similarly disenchanted. A few years later, the topic came up with my future husband. I mentioned the 2000 election and proudly reported I had voted third party. I got a response I had never expected.
“You helped Bush win.”
“What? No! Bush won because it went to the courts, he won because the system is corrupt,” I said. I spouted on about tampered voting machines, recounts, hanging chads, and Florida’s racism.
In his opinion, my vote for a third party was basically a vote for Bush, one that should have gone to Gore. While Gore still received the most votes, it was not by a wide margin. Perhaps if Gore had won all the third party votes, then the margin would have been such that a recount in Florida wouldn’t have been necessary, or the Electoral College would’ve been forced to vote with the people. I started to see his point to a degree, begrudgingly. But it certainly wasn’t fair.
* * *
As a rule, I voted third party, partly because the Green Party represented my beliefs but also in defiance of a two-party system. We are a nation of diversity, and our government should reflect that. Only having two options for who represents us is not acceptable.In the 2008 presidential election, I voted Democratic for the first time. Finally, there was a candidate who was intelligent, genuinely kind, social-minded, and inspiring. I went all in and became a full-fledged Obama supporter. Through his eight years of presidency, I had a confidence in my government that I had never felt before. I didn’t agree with everything that Obama supported or enacted; I disagreed with and felt shame for some of his decisions. But I always knew he was an intelligent, well-meaning, and respectable man who could be trusted. I didn’t know how quickly that faith could be shattered.
* * *
In 2016, sixteen years after voting third party in my first presidential election, when my vision was full of hope and inspiration, I walked my mail-in ballot into a local polling place. I had begrudgingly shaded the bubble next to Hillary Clinton’s name. She was not my first choice. She was not my second choice. She was better than the alternative, and I based my vote on that opinion alone. Hearing people say they were voting third party, or worse, not voting at all, increased my fear that a reality TV star would win the election. I’d become someone that my younger, idealistic self would have heavily criticized. I was jaded.
Not without reason, mind you.
* * *
In this next election, I’ll vote to beat Trump. That means I’ll vote for whoever the mainstream Democratic candidate is, regardless of how closely their values align with mine. I haven’t decided yet if that’s a sign of how bad things have become with Trump as president, or if I have just grown disillusioned. I’m a far cry from the idealist young woman who voted strictly on the grounds of my core beliefs and who best represented them. I should be devastated that she’s gone.I honestly don’t know if this is the right tactic. There is still a part of me who wants to vote solely on my beliefs, who wants to continue to vote for third party in defiance of the stagnation of the two-party system. Things need to change. Perhaps in that way, I am still my younger self. I still have hope that our government will become more inclusive and justice-oriented. I still long to live in a country where the morality of the people includes kindness to everyone, support and services for all who need it, and basic human decency. While I will still show up at every election and exercise my right as a citizen of a democratic nation, I know it will not be enough.
Living in a free, just, and fair democratic society is the ideal, not the reality. I am under no delusion that there’s a candidate that can mend all the societal problems of our day. So I’ll continue to vote, but I’ll vote with a strategy. That means possibly not voting for the candidate who best represents my values, but the one least likely to destroy the democratic foundation of our society. To see this vision through, to make it a reality, voting is only just the beginning.
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Anne Fricke is an author, performance poet, storyteller, podcaster, mother, and wife. She lives in far Northern California, writes daily, and travels when she can. Her newest book of poems, One Mother’s Revolution, is an attempt to make sense of the current state of the world through poetry. She shares her experience of raising a child with special needs, along with the stories of other parents on similar journeys, on her podcast Walking with Freya. |