Thursday, January 23, 1997
IDEOLOGY:
The home and family provide a key role in influencing future
opinions, decisions in life
Ann Mah
Escaping the Orange Curtain: One woman’s true story of
overcoming the odds.
I did not walk uphill both ways through the snow to
kindergarten.
I always owned shoes. I never ate ketchup sandwiches. Yet, I too
have a hard-knock story that I wish to share. My tale begins in a
land not far from Los Angeles called Orange County. Once known for
a copious citrus crop, this county is now renowned for its
abundance of another kind of acidic fruit: Republicans. Yes, my
fellow Bruins, the rumors are true. In the minds of Orange
County-ites, Bob Dole is president, Newt Gingrich is heir-apparent,
all citizens own fire arms and Bill Clinton is guilty (of
everything). And though my family of Republican mom and Democrat
dad may seem diverse, this representation is a sham, for, in
actuality, dad is a Southern Democrat. (For those of you unfamiliar
with the political dynamics of the South, as a result, the word
"southern" cancels out the word "democrat" leaving only
"republican" to fill the empty space.) It is a grim picture, I
know, yet beyond the darkness there is a ray of light, a hope.
Envision me, a small Asian child, pig-tailing to school,
surrounded by a sea of pin-striped, suit-clad boys and girls. My
mother has taken pains to ensure that I look like them, but my feet
stride to the beat of a vastly different drum. For, beyond the
Republican doctrine that has been drilled into my head, there is a
small chord of sympathy which resonates with the old peanut farmer,
Jimmy Carter. Could this minute musical note be rebellion?
The Republican way is a prosperous way and amidst Star Wars and
Iran-Contra, I wait for the trickle-down (I’m still waiting). My
parents struggle to curb my dangerous liberal streak. They
overexpose me to elephants and Grand Old Party seals for my sticker
collection. They feel a small battle has been won when, in the
fourth grade, I support Ronald Reagan. I develop a small crush on
Alex P. Keaton.
Eighth grade (1988) brings a leap year, and also another
presidential election. Mr. Collier, my social studies teacher, asks
his social studies class to pick a side: Republican or Democrat.
Mr. Collier is a leftist man, and I can only imagine his disgust
when 27 pre-teens read Bush’s lips (no new taxes!), and only two
people embrace the "Greek Geek," Michael Dukakis. With a purely
adolescent horror of anything labeled as "different," I remain true
to my roots and join Bush’s campaign. My fate appears to have been
sealed.
Though the hallowed halls of my all-girl’s Catholic high school
remain a pleasantly vague blur, I do remember the then black
Tuesday when George Bush lost the 1992 election and the Republicans
lost the White House. It was a dark day for the Mah family
household as my father tossed away his pork rinds and my mother
lost all hope of a larger tax refund. In fact, for months Orange
County retained an aura of sorrow, alleviated only in brief
spasmodic periods by Rush Limbaugh.
But when, you may ask, did I finally see the burning orange tree
and switch political allegiances? My epiphany occurred, when I met
with the assistant of my congressman, an Orange County Republican
incumbent. Dewey-eyed and innocent, I sweetly asked the woman how
she felt I could make a difference in the world. My ideals crashed
when she informed me that I was simply young and idealistic.
According to her, individuals couldn’t make a difference in the
world. That day, the tiny note that harmonized with Jimmy Carter
turned into a symphony.
Breaking the news to mom and dad was probably the hardest
task.
Like many college students, I returned home for Thanksgiving
break spouting my new-found wisdom. Three years later, I’m sorry to
say that mom, dad and cousin Gary are still not aware of the fact
that they are restrictive capitalists who care more about lowering
taxes than saving the environment, but their ignorance is no fault
of mine. However, dinner conversations steadfastly avoid any
mention of the political, especially the recent presidential
election.
These days I am a registered Democrat. Though I may appear more
conservative than my Berkeley-born roommate, my Orange County-bred
parents view me as a freak; they hope this is merely a phase.
Although some may view Orange origins as meager and impoverished, I
feel my roots have given me a strong character. Like the many men
and women who have come before me, I have risen from the ashes and
become empowered.