Not right enough, not left enough
I grew up in a Republican household, where we watched a lot of news, even before the 24-hour news cycle took off and well before the rise of social media. While my mother claimed that we often discussed current events and politics, that wasn't entirely accurate. Current events were definitely a topic of conversation, and my brother and I were expected to know what was happening not just in our own country, but around the world. Politics, however, were not discussed in depth or with open debate.
Growing up, I knew that "we" were Republicans, that the late President Jimmy Carter was not just an awful president but had allegedly ruined my parents' lives, and that my mother had voted for a Democrat in one election (though she never disclosed who or for what office), which she claimed made us open-minded.
When my brother reached the end of high school, politics became more prevalent in our home, but still, discussions were minimal and often ended with my parents yelling at him. He would attempt to present alternate viewpoints on domestic issues, but he was quickly shot down. I wasn't in the room for these "discussions," but since our house wasn't very big and my mother was not a quiet yeller, I heard enough from my bedroom to understand that opposing my parents on political matters was a bad idea.
Looking back, my parents didn't really fit the mold of what many would consider a typical Republican today. They were definitely against gun control, although they didn’t own a firearm until decades later and never bothered to learn how to shoot; they bought it simply because, as my mom said, “It's how you show resistance." They firmly believed in the U.S. acting as the world's police, with my dad often saying, “Just turn the damn place into a glass parking lot," indicating their strong pro-nuclear stance. They also opposed affirmative action.
However, they weren’t particularly religious; in fact, my mother not only didn't believe in God but also disliked the idea of God. She felt abandoned by Him because her life did not turn out as she had hoped. On domestic issues, they were quite liberal—staunchly pro-choice and allies of the Pride Movement.
My brother eventually joined the Army, which I’ve mentioned before. After serving his term, he returned home to attend college and work as a debate and speech coach at our high school. My brother was (and perhaps still is) a bit of a legend in high school speech and debate; his photo was displayed in the lobby as a national champion. Naturally, it was decided that I would follow in his footsteps. While I wasn't particularly good at debate, I was (and still am) a strong public speaker and excelled on the speech team. I was placed in my brother's former category, Foreign Extemporaneous Speech, which meant I had to prepare a speech on a randomly assigned question related to foreign affairs within 30 minutes. I enjoyed it and performed well, but the preparation was intense, and eventually, I decided to leave the speech team. My high school prioritized extracurricular achievements over academic success and student mental health, a stance I disagreed with. Nevertheless, I don’t regret that time, as it opened my mind to new perspectives on foreign affairs. I spent hours pouring over The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, The Economist, and Foreign Affairs magazines, learning about every country, conflict, and international organization. Moreover, since most of the international issues I explored didn't interest my parents, my brother shaped much of my thinking in this regard. While he may not be the far-left liberal he is today, his views offered more nuance than just “turn it into a glass parking lot." However, my premature exit from the speech team caused some strain in my relationship with my brother, and I still largely held the same beliefs as my parents.
It wasn't until I left home at 18 to join the military that my views began to evolve. While I wouldn’t necessarily claim to have changed entirely—I still identify as a conservative and a Republican—my perspective has shifted significantly. I wouldn’t say I’ve changed fundamentally, as I remain committed to my conservative values. However, I’ve developed my own arguments for and against specific topics, often finding myself at odds with the prevailing views of the ranking Republicans in Washington, D.C. This shift has understandably enraged my parents.
I would often endure my mother yelling at me and belittling me for daring to suggest that, while I don’t support gun control in the way the Democratic Party advocates, there are concerns about the ease with which untrained civilians can access weapons designed solely for lethal purposes. My mother would respond by insisting that I should know better than to advocate for any restrictions on guns, claiming that such actions pave the way for governments to become dictatorships. In response, I would try to calmly explain that I wasn’t suggesting that at all; rather, I believed there should be a way to ensure proper training for civilians who wish to own firearms, and that this conversation is worth having.
My time in the military and overseas, fighting the endless war on terrorism, has led to a more nuanced view of American involvement in foreign conflicts than that of my parents. I saw firsthand the suffering, fraud, and moral corruption involved, as well as the human cost of these wars with no clear endgame or measurable positive outcomes. When I cautioned against unchecked military involvement and foreign aid, or criticized what I believed to be a failing Department of Defense, my parents dismissed me as naive and even called me a traitor to my country.
Consequently, while I was not conservative enough for my parents due to my evolving views on gun control, the military, and foreign affairs, I also found myself not liberal enough for my brother and many of my friends.
Throughout my life, I have been pro-choice and an ally of the Pride Movement. I’ve always believed that all individuals are created equal, and I condemn racism as an evil that must be called out and eradicated whenever it exists. However, my experiences with the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion movement have left me feeling alienated—it became a catalyst for my release from a system that had misled me for two decades. During the summer riots following George Floyd's death, I was told by the Department of Defense that, as a white person, I was inherently racist and that nothing I could say or do would change that perception. I was even denied selection for a prestigious position, despite being the most qualified candidate, simply because I wasn’t “diverse-looking enough,” which led to my decision to retire.
I have long criticized the public education system, recognizing its failures long before it became fashionable to challenge it. However, when I saw schools, books, and society suggesting that young children could choose their gender, or labeling my children as racists because they are white and claiming they needed to be taught as such, I realized things had worsened significantly since my own public school days.
I have consistently supported a woman’s right to choose. I still consider myself pro-choice, believing that women should have the right to reproductive care, including abortions, for any reason within a reasonable timeframe. However, I cannot support the idea of allowing abortions up until birth or even after; such notions are madness.
So, this is who I am: I believe in strong borders, a lethal military that primarily remains at home, small government, school choice, parental rights, and equality for all, regardless of race or socio-economic background. I advocate for less government intervention and more locally led programs to solve local problems, a fair criminal justice system that holds elites accountable just as it does everyday criminals. I want clean streets, air, and water, as well as a reimagined infrastructure and public transportation system. Ultimately, I envision a country that prioritizes physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual well-being over artificial distractions and interventions, but most importantly, I believe in open dialogue and debate.
I am tired of having differing opinions only to be labeled as evil for it. I am exhausted from being dismissed simply because some issues require questioning and conversation, even if I don’t have all the answers yet. I am weary of the divisive “us versus them" mentality—the notion that “I’m right, you’re evil" or “I’m right, you’re a weak idiot." It doesn’t have to be this way, and I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. We can choose not to engage in the toxic discourse that has defined previous generations or that which is perpetuated by mainstream media and big politics.
It's time for a new approach to debating one another, a fresh way to engage with both our world, and a new method to face the future and address our shared challenges. I don’t have all the answers, and it's likely that you will disagree with some or even most of what I believe. But that’s okay with me—I actually welcome it. Without disagreement, progress is impossible.
Come disagree with me, and maybe we can figure some of this shit out.
