Why I Became a Democrat After a Lifetime of Being Conservative

**Note: This was written on Election Night at 3 a.m. and has been lightly edited for grammar only**

America, I’m sorry.

Back in the Florida Primary, I cast a vote for Donald Trump. By no means was my vote decisive, it was supposed to be a protest vote.

I’ve been registered as a Republican since I was old enough to vote. I believed government was a massive enemy – after all, the IRS harassed a loved one for nearly two decades. I detested affirmative action because it was keeping me – the white man – down. I thought abortion was murder and the United States was a Christian country containing allowances for those with similar traditions such as Jewish people. 

I didn’t overtly hate. I thought problems in the African-American community were due to government providing a hand out instead of a hand up. Even though I was born less than 100 years after my family immigrated to America, I lamented how Mexicans were crossing the border with unabated glee while snatching jobs from Americans. 

When I was 18, the ideology formed by my sheltered, non-diverse experiences and small circle of influences were amplified by continuously listening to Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. 

In 2004, I was swept up in America-first nationalism and cheered as George W. Bush was re-elected. I strained against my beliefs because I was in college and learning about the world around me. I spent some time eschewing that experience because that’s what “elites” think; I’m just simple folk and my common sense was better founded. That’s what Sean and Rush said, so of course it was true. 

Then something happened. 

I moved from New York to Florida, mostly because I love the weather. I started a job where for the next 9 years I would be in contact with people not found in my tony Hamptons upbringing – the poor and minorities.

Becoming a teacher was life changing. My first class was something jarring – I was the only white person in the room. Suddenly, issues of poverty and disenfranchisement were not abstract concepts, they confronted me daily. 

Except I was just a viewer, I didn’t live the struggle of my students. I saw it. Every day they arrived in class after walking through gang-infested neighborhoods because they were determined not to be a statistic. I taught students who broke my heart because for all their ability it was too hard to keep saying no to temptation. 

Some of my students trudged from school to a job because they were the ones who could work in the family. Many of my students spoke English along with Spanish, Haitian Creole, Jamaican Patois, and even Mayan dialects. They had to speak multiple languages because their parents didn’t speak English.

Then I met their parents and saw their hands. My mother always said callused hands are the sign of someone who knows hard work. As these men and women met me on the night of Open House my supple, soft, white fingers clasped their rough, knotted, brown knuckles. My pressed shirt and meticulously knotted tie knew little about the term “hard work.”

You could call my students and their families many things – Mexican, Black, Haitian, Poor, Immigrant, Gay, Working Class, Undocumented – but I couldn’t deny the depth of their struggles.

 

I met lots of colleagues who exposed me to amazing ideas, problem solving techniques, and real empathy; these people truly opened my world and challenged my ideas. It could be high minded literary discussions or simply figuring out what makes a student tick. 

Unfortunately, I also worked with people charitably described as “racist” and “homophobe” – you can’t imagine the crudeness of a school’s athletic department – along with others who talked about God incessantly while acting against His teachings. 

When 2008 came along, I felt government helps the wrong people. A white kid growing up in the Hamptons needs little compared to the kid growing up in poverty. I was leaning for Barack Obama because John McCain seemed eager to send soldiers throughout the world to fight other people’s battles. Then Sarah Palin happened. I couldn’t conceive of a world where she’d be a heartbeat away from the Presidency.  

Since 2008, I’ve evolved in many ways:

• I'm Pro-Choice because a woman's body is her business, not mine
• I don't attend church often because people in the pulpit preach "Love thy neighbor" and concurrently advocate restricting the right of civil marriage for all
• It's abundantly clear if you are not white, America marginalizes you institutionally and intentionally
• Affirmative action provides opportunities where none would otherwise exist
• If you are poor, good luck because the tax code is designed for the rich
• Climate change is real, so is evolution, and it's on you to get with it
• America is NOT a Christian country, it's for all faiths and no faiths
• Poverty is NOT a moral failing

So now, here we are in 2016. And now my Trump vote.

I stayed registered as a Republican hoping the party would move on from this super-religious, super angry, super bratty phase and return to good governing. I hoped that they would work to help everyone attain equality of opportunity instead of equality of result. Instead, the party embraces unfettered campaign financing, eschews universal health insurance, and engages in blatant race baiting and dog whistling. 

Trump’s arrival exposed these covert elements. White Nationalists gained a voice and evil men like Roger Stone bristled at the prospect of a Trump presidency. The other 16 candidates danced around what Trump said and disavowed the bluntness of his statements. Yet all the other candidates’ actions over their lifetimes are evidence Trump spoke for them as well. 

I voted for Trump because he would destroy the Republican party. This incarnation of the party deserved death. It supported those waving Confederate flags, Kim Davis and her special brand of hate, and men who are unusually obsessed with female reproduction. It has a Congressional delegation that is over 85% white, male, and Christian. 

Oh – and it detests immigrants.

I wanted the Republican Party to turn to rubble because the person I was when I was 18 is someone who I detest at 35. I hoped that Trump would finally force the GOP to give up on appeasing white people who refuse adapting to modern times. 

My reasoning was too smart for my own good. If I must look back and change anything, I would have left that part of my ballot blank. Instead, there is blood on my hands and though I might wish to explain it away using the scope of his victory in the Florida Primary, the reality is I voted for him in March with the intention of, and ultimately voting for Hillary in November.

So now I sit here in my living room, typing as a Trump presidency is fait accompli. My hope for a Republican meltdown and productive self-inventory is gone. This election proved it is easier to motivate with hate than reason. 

So now what?

The first thing I did was change my party registration because I will not associate myself with people who are, for lack of a better term, deplorable. I submitted my change of registration form and I’m officially a Democrat. 

The idea the Republican party would have its reckoning and bounce back to a place of sanity handicapped me for 8 years. The reality is being a teacher changed me.

I’ve learned about empathy. I’ve learned about kindness. I’ve learned about perseverance. I’ve learned about what hard work REALLY looks like. I’ve learned how important it is to break out of my comfort zone and challenge my thoughts.

I said before, the person I was at 18 was deplorable and abhorrent. The problem with America is there are far too many of me at 18 than me at 35. 

That’s why a sexual predator will occupy the Oval Office. 

If you’ve stuck with me this long, please read just a little bit longer. I’d like to, in explicit terms, describe who I was at 18:

• Compassionless
• Lazy
• Eager to blame others for my problems
• Bigoted
• Entitled
• Suspicious of intelligence

I’m not without faults today at 35. I am easy to anger (my twitter timeline from the election is a good barometer of that), condescending towards those I believe aren’t as smart as I am, inconsiderate at times and I have a knack for speaking too much while listening too little. And wow – I’m prone to fits of hyperbole. 

But, I saw on twitter something that gave me heart. The tweeter said white men need to lower their shoulder and be the blockers for minorities and women. I plan to do that. And I plan to do whatever it takes to wash the stench of my years in the Republican party off me by doing what I can to elect Democrats.

Despite my disagreements with how Democrats implement policy, they do stand for equality and Republicans do not. I believe we are fundamentally unable to be a more perfect union if everyone who is not white, male, and Christian lives a life where opportunity is muted and punishment is exacerbated. 

It's time to point out bigotry every time we see it and not cower because white people are incensed by being called racist. It’s time to get good, strong Democrats ready for 2018 to take back the House and Senate. It’s even more important to take State legislatures because that’s where districts are drawn.

On election day, I was depressed, tearful, apoplectic knowing I bear responsibility for this election. I should have never voted for Trump.

I plan to do what I can over the next two years to promote Democratic candidates here in Florida. In 2018 Bill Nelson’s Senate seat is up, and House seats need to be flipped. The state Senate and state Legislature need to be moved off their GOP supermajority status.

Before I start with those plans, I need to end this screed how I started it. 

To African-Americans, 

To Hispanics,

To Women,

To Muslims,

To the Disabled,

To Immigrants,

To everyone rebuked by White America:

I’m sorry.