The first political label I applied to myself was “moderate liberal.” That was when I was a college freshman. What I really meant was, “I don’t want to appear ignorant or offend anyone, but I’m clueless.” There were plenty of people around me who could articulate their allegiances or debate political issues with confidence, and I envied them. Some were probably just parroting arguments they had heard at home or among their friends. But they had an identity, and I didn’t know my own.
Through student government I began to develop strong interests in academic policy issues like the course drop deadline and general education requirements. But many of the students I worked with had broader interests: in racial and economic justice, on campus and beyond. They were a diverse group, and generally patient with the questions I asked them, some of which must have been pretty insensitive. Their strong political views came from hard experiences in communities that were, until then, completely outside of my small universe. Not only did I want to stand with them, but I felt betrayed by the softness of my own circumstances: I had been so sheltered, so naïve. The part of me that already wanted to rebel against arbitrary and unjust authority thrilled to the cause.
Racial justice became my cornerstone. It was easy enough to build perspectives on that starting point, just by paying attention to what like-minded people believed about other issues. George H. W. Bush helped too, running a campaign for President against Michael Dukakis in 1988 (the year I graduated from college) that stoked racial fears and prejudices. Whatever Bush was for, I knew I had to be against. And it felt really good to be able to say for sure what I was against.
In graduate school I met truly thoughtful and decent Republicans, which forced me once again to wrestle with what I had taken too easily for granted. And I saw in some Democrats shades of sanctimony and hypocrisy I found truly unattractive (I’m looking at you, Senator Joe Lieberman). I can’t say I’ve ever voted enthusiastically for a Republican, but I’ve voted against some Democrats.
After a stint as a lawyer, I took jobs that reflected my emerging passions: community-building, education and democracy. I developed more ideas and priorities of my own, totally distinct from party platforms and campaign slogans. Even more important, from experience, reading and reflection I developed a sense of how things actually get done in the world: the planning and coalition-building, the changes in culture enabled by, and in turn enabling, changes in policy and practice. And I developed a sense of when and why good intentions fail to yield good outcomes. This education made me a wiser voter, but also reoriented me to a world of politics beyond voting: everyday politics, in which people work effectively together to build our world.
I’m not done learning, and I know my views will continue to evolve, hopefully growing ever more nuanced as I accumulate experiences. But I’m OK with that now: I’m finally confident enough in my own identity as a human being that I feel less urgency about having a fixed and final political viewpoint.
So that’s how I developed my political identity. How about you? What has your process been like, and where are you now?
--David Hoffman
Co-Create UMBC is a blog for and about UMBC, written by David Hoffman and Craig Berger from the Office of Student Life. Join the Co-Create UMBC group on MyUMBC. Like Co-Create UMBC on Facebook. And follow David and Craig on Twitter.
--David Hoffman
Co-Create UMBC is a blog for and about UMBC, written by David Hoffman and Craig Berger from the Office of Student Life. Join the Co-Create UMBC group on MyUMBC. Like Co-Create UMBC on Facebook. And follow David and Craig on Twitter.
