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It would be easy enough to lay the fault of my political beliefs at my
mother’s feet. I grew up listening to her left-wing diatribes, like “What has
the right ever done for me?” or (my favorite) “If one more person refers to me
as a ‘welfare-mom’,” and they were ingrained pretty deep, and pretty early.
She was adamantly opposed to policies like giving government money to
faith-based organizations and assuming they were going to serve the best
interests of our needy populations, or the idea that the government should have
any power over a woman’s body. And those ideas certainly resonated with me from
a young age, as I found myself to be a blossoming feminist and staunch agnostic
at the wise age of 9 years old.
My mother whole-heartedly supported things like same-sex marriage, stem cell
research, government support of social services, and intense health care
reform. And I found myself standing right beside her, my fist in the air,
ranting about how necessary those things were for the vitality and social
responsibility of this country.
But there came a point when I made my own choice, when I embraced the
Democratic Party -- not because my mother felt so strongly about it, and not
because her arguments were so persuasive and eloquent. I chose this party as my
political home because I realized it fit me, as an adult human being standing
on my own in the world, and I felt like it fit the needs of the people I knew
and loved.
I love being a Democrat, of course, in large part because of all of the
things we support. I think my mother was right about supporting our gay and
lesbian friends’ right to be married and experience all the legal benefits that
come with that loving union. I think she was right about needing an overhaul in
the health care system, so that people like she, who spend a thousand dollars a
month on medications for debilitating illnesses, would have better options and
better support. I can stand behind ideas like alternative energy, more
affordable college educations, expanded environmental protection, and a fair
minimum wage. But there are other reasons I love my party, other reasons I
cannot see myself aligned with any other.
It’s harder to put in words, the way that I feel about the Democratic Party.
And it is a distinct feeling I get, a feeling that matters to me as much as the
ideals and positions we support. It is a feeling of family, a feeling of
warmth, and community, and respect. I cannot help but love a party that
welcomes me in my jeans and ratty T-shirt to an outdoor bar-b-que on a Saturday
afternoon in the spring, welcomes me with big smiles, hugs, sincere questions --
from people I have met only a few times -- about how I am holding up since my
mother passed away too young.
I cannot help but love a party that can poke fun at itself, has a sense of
humor about itself, and is not afraid to do silly things, like play the kazoo
in an Independence Day Parade. I cannot help but love a party that sends out
emails every month asking for help serving and cooking dinner for the
Hospitality House, and ALWAYS gets the help it needs. And I cannot help but
love a party that loves us all, no matter our color or financial stability or
employment status, no matter how gay or poor or religious we may be, how liberal
or conservative.
I am proud of my party, proud to be associated with it, proud to wave my
fist in the air in my mother’s signature style, and rant to my unborn child
about why we are Democrats, and why it’s so important to work together -- for
the good of this country and all it has ever stood for in the name of all the
hard-working, poor, disenfranchised men, women and children who came here
looking for a better life.
Katy June Abrams expresses her opinions while painting the nursery at
her home in the Blowing Rock Precinct.
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