Taxation With Representation

My mom marched on Washington for civil rights, my dad was an avid viewer of Sunday commentary like Meet The Press and The McLaughlin Group, and my grandfather proudly displayed, until the day he passed, an autographed picture of President Clinton. There have been some Republicans in the family here and there, but we’ve primarily been a bunch of bleeding heart liberals.

All my life I’ve been involved with some sort of community service, and I believe in the power of helping others. But, I never paid much attention to politics. Since the time I could vote, I had always felt powerless over having any effective say in Washington, and I just joined the chorus of Generation X skeptics. For years I would tell people, “What we really have is taxation without representation.” They would usually agree with me and the subject of government would evaporate. When I would read the paper, I’d skip the news because of its negative tone and I’d jump right to the sports section.

It wasn’t until I got older that I showed any interest in politics. I guess it was when I started to notice the absurd disparity between competence and ignorance. Even though the 2000 Gore/Bush election was a complete fiasco, I was still too focused on myself and my life to care much about what had happened.

It was actually during the first Kerry/Bush debate in 2004 that I really began to pay attention. That night, I clearly saw the stark difference between a man who was speaking knowledge from his heart and a man who was thinking hard and running scared. The word on the New York City streets was that Kerry would easily win. How on earth could Bush earn a second term?

After voting in my Brooklyn neighborhood, I returned home to watch the polls and awaited a Kerry victory. The shock of Bush emerging from his own bewilderment and staying in the White House taught me a very important lesson: the rest of the country doesn’t think like the New York liberals.

During the 2008 Democratic primary, I vaguely followed the battle for the nomination until the convention. It was during then-Senator Obama’s acceptance speech that summer that I began to believe in politics. He was a nominee from my generation. It was during the Obama/McCain debates that I witnessed a guy who truly cared about the country. It was the first time I saw someone running for President of the United States who seemed just like me: a good person with a good heart who truly wanted change in the political arena.

Months after Obama won the election, I started to read articles about his ascension to the highest office in the U.S. I was amazed when I learned that he hadn’t planned on running for President this early in his life, but while he was stumping for other colleagues, the crowds rallied around him. They urged him to take his charisma and beliefs to the White House and just go for it. As one of his advisors said to him, “Sometimes you pick the time, and sometimes the time picks you.”

I remember watching the President’s first State of the Union address, and I felt like it was one of my peers up there talking to all of us in a language of heartfelt words and common sense. It really was no BS. He was looking at Congress and into the camera and saying, “Look, this is a tough time, I don’t know everything, and we’re all in this thing together.” I was proud of his forthright honesty, his clear humility, and his ability to convey a message of hope that actually rang true. I believed that he meant well, and I knew there would be growing pains. It was the first time in my life that I truly was interested in the day-to-day political scene.

Sometime in 2010, I became disgruntled with all the crap on television. Don’t get me wrong, there is some stellar programming and there are some shows I look forward to. But on a typical night, I usually found myself banging through the clicker singing the Springsteen tune, “57 Channels (And Nothin’ On).” In general, I was searching for something more than revolving sitcoms and another knock off of CSI. Jon Stewart was always good for a laugh while outsmarting politicians, but I never watched serious political shows focused solely on the issues.

Suddenly, amongst the drought of compelling TV, I started to watch CNN and MSNBC. Call it old-fashioned boredom or coming of age maturity, but I began to look forward to Anderson and Rachel. Maybe because they too were from my generation and spoke with passion I could identify with, but I began to follow politics. Eventually, I would run through the whole lineup from Ed and Chris to Keith and Lawrence. I was a rookie politico.

At the end of the last year, the Capitol was heating up with several lame duck votes coming down to the wire. Each day I would turn on the news to see updates on the reform of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, the S.T.A.R.T Treaty, the DREAM Act and the highly controversial extension of the Bush tax cuts. I saw the far left screaming for the President to show some fight, and I saw the conservatives relishing the thought of the Democrats relinquishing the House. It was going to be an interesting end to 2010 for sure.

But the repeal of DADT struck a chord with me. I’m a heterosexual guy, and I’ve never cared about someone’s sexual preferences. The question I’m usually interested in is: do I like my girlfriend and how’s our sex life? It didn’t make sense to me how we were the last country in the free world to grant equal rights to our service men and women. The homophobia that had kept these brave souls in a silent void was just pure ignorance. It’s as if people were afraid that gayness would rub off on them. Folks, I don’t think you can catch it that way.

Throughout the day, I try and remember the soldiers around the world that are putting their asses on the line and keeping me safe while I grab a slice of pizza, take a drive upstate or go to a Met game. God bless ‘em. Whom they choose to partner up with is none of my business. I’ve had all kinds of co-workers, and it’s only the job performance that matters.

Last December I got a significant email from Organizing For America, a community organizing project of the DNC. The repeal vote for DADT was getting close, and they were looking for volunteers to make phone calls to constituents of borderline senators. They needed every vote. The idea was to ask voters to contact their senator and voice support for ending the outdated policy. The internet made it easy to log on the OFA website, get a list of people to call and talk to them one by one.

I had some free time, so I decided to volunteer. I believed in the mission, and I was interested to see how the rest of America felt about this controversial matter. I began to call people, some old, some young, and I was really surprised by the reception I got. About 80% or more of the people I spoke with were in support of the repeal and gladly wrote down their senator’s number to voice their opinion. One call after another, folks expressed their desire to see an end to DADT. Even older citizens whom I thought would be blinded by a lack of experience with the sexual revolution, they too called their senator to say enough is enough. Either we are all created equal or we are not. ‘Nuff said.

A few weeks later, Congress finally ended the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy and gave every soldier the freedom to be seen and heard. I felt good to be a part of the final vote. In some small way for the first time in my life, I felt like I finally had taxation with representation.