Not My Father's GOP

We never talked about politics growing up.

Perhaps it was because my parents were on different ideological sides. Perhaps it was because there was some unspoken agreement to raise their only child in a politics-free environment. Perhaps it was because there simply wasn't a lot to discuss as we ate nightly dinner around a big-screen TV. Whatever the reason, politics was never a prominent discussion topic for the first 18 years of my life.

But that's not to say my parents didn't influence my politics. When I was but a wee lad of 7-years-old, my mom took me with her to help her vote in the 1992 presidential primary. I never knew who she voted for but what I did learn is that this voting thing seemed kind of important. As an attention-seeking middle-schooler, I found the impeachment trial of Bill Clinton amusing and couldn't help but sport my WHITE HOUSE INTERN shirt on our school's week-long trip to Washington, DC. By high school, the intern shirt no longer made my weekly wardrobe but I did learn about the power of politics firsthand as I ran for, and won, my first election for president for my high school's chapter of the National Honor Society. By working with my fellow board members and our advisors, I experienced the legwork and preparation needed to run a successful administration.

Once I got to college, I began forming my own thoughts and opinions about politics. My peers' reading materials would include books about 'Bushisms' and I was extremely disheartened watching the swift boating of John Kerry during the 2004 presidential campaign. That next fall, I spent a semester abroad and made sure not to take with me any overtly patriotic gear. When discussing politics with native Spaniards, my friends and I found that our conversations became much more meaningful once both sides admitted that we were stuck with incompetent leaders. Once that bridge was crossed, we were able to have civilized discussions about broad political ideals and it was our disdain for our current leaders that brought us closer together, not further apart. By 2008, I was sure to register to vote and proudly cast my vote for Barack Obama in North Carolina, a state he won, defying all odds and expectations. Over the next 8 years, I was proudly on Team Barack as I began to see myself in the optimistic way that he saw so many everyday Americans. He was my Forever President and will continue to be so until my dying days.

So in 2016, when I was so into politics that I moved across the country to work on Hillary Clinton's Florida campaign, my Dad was a bit taken aback. He knew his only son was becoming political (I sent him and my Mom pictures of me at pro-immigration rallies) but he just attributed that to being a part of the California culture like surfing or Taco Tuesdays. When I told him I was leaving the teaching and nonprofit field to do political organizing for the Democratic Party, he was insistent that I may feel that way now but that I would become more conservative as I got older. He told me I was overreacting and that there was no way that Donald Trump was as threatening as I made him out to be. Even as I settled into my new job in Palm Beach County, which would be my home for 5 months, my Dad still believed that I could potentially still become an eventual Republican voter. Meanwhile, my Dad, a lifelong Republican, was disappointed that his chosen candidate, Marco Rubio, didn't end up earning the Republican nomination.

But over the next 5 months, something changed. My Dad, a former middle school civics teacher turned insurance salesman, became more and more distraught over the person selected to be the Republican nominee. Many of this nominee's views were putrid and horrid and contrary to the values of Eisenhower Republicans. As much as my Dad would love a nice tax cut, he didn't want it at the expense of taking away health care and locking up Mexicans. Once October rolled around and the now-infamous Access Hollywood tape dropped, my Dad and I had a phone call where he said, bluntly, that he now understood how and why I had chosen to work on Hillary Clinton's campaign. Roughly 3 weeks later, my Dad, lifelong Republican, cast his first vote for a Democrat when he voted for Hillary Clinton for president. He told me that it was the easiest vote he ever made.

Flash forward 37 months.

Wednesday night my Dad and I sat watching the third president in our nation's history get impeached. As Republican after Republican stood up, refusing to acknowledge the criminal usurper in the White House, my dad would become more and more visibly frustrated. "This guy is an idiot!" he'd yell as Republican after Republican would echo false talking points, refusing to acknowledge the verifiable truth. However, my Dad would simultaneously acknowledge admiration for folks like Denny Heck, Val Dennings, Steny Hoyer, Adam Schiff, and Nancy Pelosi whom he saw as genuine and patriotic. By the end of the voting and having called Tulsi Gabbard a "chickenshit" for her voting present, my Dad uttered the single, five-word phrase I never thought I'd hear him say:

"I'm never voting Republican again."

My Dad won't be found in a rural diner. He won't be found at a political rally. He won't be found authoring a letter to the editor. He won't be found giving monthly or even a single donation to any particular political candidate. Where my Dad will be found is in my home, in the place where my liberal Mom and I grew up and the place he has lived for 40 years. He'll be found walking the family dog around the neighborhood or at the local conservation area. He'll be found 3 hours north, hiking in the state national forests. And today, thanks to Donald Trump, he'll be found watching MSNBC Nightly News and making sure his voter registration for the first time has a (D) next to his name.

The media likes to pretend that people like my Dad don't exist, but they do. They are lifelong Republicans who are sickened by what they are seeing. Sickened by the Republican vision of America. Sickened by the lack of decorum displayed by the current occupant of the White House. Sickened by the vilification of our country's most vulnerable. Sickened of the embarrassment America has become on the world stage. My Dad may not have agreed with Barack Obama's politics, but he never felt ashamed that he was our president. He never felt the need to shamefully present his American passport when he traveled internationally. All this changed with the election of Donald Trump and seeing an entire political party, the party he grew up admiring, fall in line has been so disruptive, so disheartening, that my Dad no longer recognizes that party of which he grew up and spent the first 66 years of his life.

This story is anecdotal but it is telling. It is telling that a staunch Eisenhower Republican is now not only voting for the 2016 Democratic Party nominee but that he will be voting for all Democrats for the foreseeable future. The GOP is the Party of Trump. He is a symptom not the cause of the party's current racist, sexist, xenophobic platform that has alienated so many independent voters. What the GOP doesn't realize is that they are losing not just suburban moms but suburban dads as well. These dads won't pick up the phone to give their response to the latest polling and won't be interviewed for an in-depth New York Times article, but they're here all around us. They might not have a political sticker on their SUV but just because they aren't overtly advertising their politics doesn't mean that they won't go into the voting booth in 2020 with just as much anger as the suburban soccer mom. And despite my own best efforts, not all of them will need a lifelong liberal son to convince them that the Republican Party is a party they no longer recognize.

All they needed was to watch the impeachment hearings and they could see it for themselves.