My Mother Voted for Ross Perot

When I was in third grade, my mother voted for Ross Perot because she felt bad because he had big ears.

My family wasn’t into politics growing up. It wasn’t until around high school that I began to understand what a Democrat and Republican was: another two labels that you had to choose from to categorize yourself—jock/book worm, daddy’s girl/mommy’s girl, pretty/ugly.

I choose to be a Democrat. Felt more “wick” out of the two; Democrat sounded alive and light as it rolled off your tongue than the harsh and sturdy “R” of Republican.

Though as you get older, what you think doesn’t matter much, it’s about what others tag you as. As if every adult walks around with a barcode on their foreheads, scanned by others with a first impression:

1. Female, stout, mousy pretty, nice thighs, successful job (she has insurance), and she takes good care of her dog (three walks a day).

2. Male, tall slender frame, soft laboring hands (a contradiction), long eye lashes, wants the most, the “everything” out of life but is not sure how to get his hands on it or keep it for that matter. He is disappointed but can play through it.

3. Female, looks young enough to be kicked out of a bar, some call her beautiful but she’d rather be witty. She is “ok” with being alone but secretly wants someone who can be alone with her.

My mother, my parents have many labels, but political is not one of them; they are much more than what the government can label them as am I.