In Which I Am Uncomfortable

So before I tell you this story, I should give you some background: first of all, my Grandmother is very conservative (as in, Fox News is her favorite channel), and her friends in Clemson are very conservative (as is that area in general).

Second of all, I am not very conservative. I'm a registered democrat, and am socially very liberal, but most of the time just find myself completely uninspired by our political system. If there were such a thing as a registered apathetic, I would probably fit in that group. Which is embarrassing to admit, but there you have it. The truth. Since the presidential election in 2008, I simply have not taken the time to educate myself on the political climate. This meant that last night I found myself frantically scanning newspaper (and, um, Wikipedia) articles on the Pennsylvania candidates so that I could be a somewhat informed voter today. 

Third of all, I HATE confrontation. You know what my idea of hell is? A debate club. Because a "debate club" just seems to me like a euphemism for a "fight club" and, like any good child of divorced parents, I DO NOT LIKE FIGHTING. I really would rather we all just got along and went on our merry way so that my head doesn't explode.

Naturally, of course, I'm not a wet blanket all of the time, and I know that life would be tremendously boring if we all got along all of the time. There are certain topics about which I am very passionate, and which I do believe are worth fighting for, and worth disagreeing over. You know what has not been one of them this fall? Today's election. I have had approximately a bajillion things on my mind without worrying about whether Pat Toomey was giving away jobs to China (this was the gist of the smear campaign run against him in Pennsylvania - he's running for the Senate seat), and, well, I suppose the honest answer is that I just didn't have the energy or desire to get involved.

SO. ANYWAYS. All of this is to preface the following conversation, which took place when I was visiting my Grandmother in Clemson last Sunday. We hadn't been to church that morning, and one of her good friends from church wanted to stop by that afternoon to say hello. At first I left my Grandmother and her friend alone in the den to chat, but when Grandmother called me back in, I went and sat down in an armchair across from our visitor.

The talk turned to the election, and how they were praying for a Republican victory, and I just decided to keep my mouth shut - I was too exhausted to deal with this today. Apparently noticing my silence, my Grandmother's friend turned to me and said, "You do vote Republican, don't you?" After a pause I said, "Well, actually I'm a registered Democrat." 

The visitor's lips tightened before she looked askance and said soberly, "Oh dear." I was hoping that she would just accept my statement and move on, but OH NO. That was not in store for today.

After a few moments of silence, she turned to me abruptly and asked pointedly, "Do you believe in abortion?" I took a moment to digest the question - I couldn't believe that this eighty-five year old woman was actually asking me whether or not I believed in abortion (speaking of which, do we really have to say "believe in abortion" like it's a creed?). Finally, I took a deep breath and said, "Well I certainly believe in a woman's right to choose." 

Her lips pursed again. "Do you believe that homosexuals should be allowed to marry?" At this point I was getting annoyed. "I do," I said firmly. "Well do you believe in the Bible?" she followed quickly. After thinking for a moment, I said, "I don't know if I believe every word of the Bible, but I believe in God." I hoped that this was the end of the interrogation.

Luckily, it was. She was obviously disappointed in me - refusing to make eye contact for the rest of our conversation, and telling me as she left that she hoped one day I'd learn to vote "the right way." 

When I'd closed the door behind her, my Grandmother said, "I'm sorry that she got into politics. I don't know why she did that." "Oh, it's fine," I said. "I'm just sorry if I offended her." "Oh don't worry," said my Grandmother. "And besides," she added as we walked back into the den, "it's important to say what you think."  

In the days since that afternoon, I've thought a lot about what my Grandmother said. My Grandmother would likely be glad to see Roe v. Wade overturned, and I'm almost positive she's against gay marriage, but the difference between her and her friend was that my Grandmother respected my opinion. Because it was MINE. Not hers, not her friend's, but mine. And that means that it is sacred to me. As soon as I told this story to Preston, he came up with various snarky retorts that I could have made in response to this woman (e.g. "Do you believe in evolution?"), and at the time I was disappointed that I hadn't thought to fight back. But now, with the advantage of hindsight, I'm so glad that I didn't fight back; I'm glad that I simply said what I believed and left it at that. Because, like my Grandmother said, it was important to say what I thought.  

That said, after my shuttle-bus driver listened to SUPER conservative "way down South" Republican radio the whole way to the Atlanta airport on Monday morning, I have NEVER been happier to arrive at the airport for a five hour stay. Because I had listened to what they were thinking for two hours straight and, well, I thought that that was enough.

P.S. Here, Sarah said it better than I could...and she included this awesome picture (which is EXACTLY what I was trying to say).