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Coming out of the closet: 'I'm
a Democrat, Dad'
By Seth
Bracken
September 12, 2008 | "So, your brother tells me that
you're with the Democrats."
My father spat the final word as if he were speaking
a word that could cause disease by just letting it slip
through your lips. His eyes didn't seem to blink and
I knew he meant business. He wasn't waiting with the
usual response that an endearing father would offer
his beloved son when he came home from college.
I knew what must have happened. Dan, my brother, must
have found out that I had gone to a College Democrats
meeting. He must have seen the pamphlet that I brought
home and tried to hide. I had always thought that when
I was finally found out, I would be proud of my party
and a part of me wanted it to happen. But here I was,
faced with the bitter reality that I was being caught
in the act. I couldn't help it, I did as Nixon, and
I denied all allegations.
"That's not true! I just went to one meeting. I had
nothing else to do. I wanted to see Obama's speech and
I don't have a TV. I didn't stay for the whole meeting.
It's not like it looks. I didn't even want the pamphlet.
I tried to give it back. I don't believe it." I started
spewing out excuses, trying to fend off my dad's attacks.
I was hoping for a quick escape. You see it's not easy
being a closeted Democrat living in an all-Republican
family. I had practiced hiding the truth from my family
my entire life.
I hid my dirty Greenpeace magazines, and while
my dad thought I was an avid fan of the Wall Street
Journal, I had a secret subscription to the New
York Times that was delivered to a friend's house.
I always knew I was not like the other boys and girls
on the playground. I was interested in making sure that
everyone got fair treatment and tried to stop the rich,
popular people from running the school. I even liked
hugging trees sometimes while no one was looking. I
just didn't want anyone to know because I was not ready
to be a self-proclaimed Democrat.
My dad, on the other hand, was quite different. His
Internet homepage is Rush Limbaugh's Web site. Every
day from 10 a.m. until noon there is no interrupting
him as he listens to "Mr. Limbaugh," whose words might
as well be canonized. His only problem with the Republican
Party in Utah is that sometimes they are a little too
liberal for his tastes. Some of my dad's stated beliefs
are: Bill Clinton is Satan, Ronald Reagan is synonymous
to Jesus, Democrats hate America and anything that is
good, Republicans are called directly from God, and
the only hope of salvation is voting as close to fascism
as possible (without killing too many people, unless,
of course, they don't believe in Ronald Reagan).
However, I think my father always suspected my political
leaning; the evidence was always there, like the time
I tried to convince my mother to vote for Ralph Nader.
I couldn't really blame my brother for turning me in.
It was, after all, the truth.
"You know what, Dad? It's true! I'm a registered Democrat!
I plan on voting for Barack Obama!" It was as if 21
years of hiding slid out in a short set of sentences.
I stood there panting, my face red as the picture of
Utah on the electoral map on election night.
I couldn't believe it, I was actually standing up
to my father, I was finally confessing the feelings
that I kept bottled up for years. The blood began to
drain from his face. We were staring at each other,
no one muttering a single word.
My dad turned and walked away. A truce of silence
about the political world had been called. While he
doesn't accept my choice of party he has not spoken
of it since. I will just be sure to not bring any convention
friends home, if you know what I mean.
NW
MS |
