Who to vote for, US-style.
Megan and her family relocated back to Aotearoa early this year. Megan is a social worker, parent and partner, and all-round general do-gooder.
OPINION
I was born in Aotearoa in the late 70s to South African parents and I have just returned home after spending the majority of my life living in the United States, mostly in Washington DC and the New York City region.
I grew up surrounded by political happenings — civic participation and a comfortableness with healthy and respectful debate. Heading to punk rock shows with Bikini Kill and Fugazi on heavy mix-tape rotation, marching on the Mall, volunteering at food banks and participating in college application-enhancing internships, often with motorcades whizzing by, was typical for me and my cohort. It felt like a rite of passage to put my head down, read all the news I could, and connect with those who shared a penchant for civic engagement. I was young, I was informed, I was optimistic!
In 1996, I — like millions of voters — believed that Ralph Nader, coined the “perennial presidential candidate” and his nascent Green Party actually had a chance. I went door to door for him in the Republican stronghold of Northern Virginia, educating voters about his stance as a consumer advocate and the climate crisis we were barrelling towards.
Boy, was I let down. Nader is famous for helping George W. Bush defeat Al Gore in the closely contested 2000 election by diverting about three million crucial votes away from the Democrats. For many, it was unforgivable and seen as though our third party optimism handed the Republicans the key to the West Wing. A shock wave of fear and anxiety tore through the establishment. It also put a nail in the coffin of a three-party system in America.
It felt like US politics took another turn after 9/11 — and I probably became more sentient and cynical about the world too. For a brief moment, the US was a country unified by grief. Democrats and Republicans forgot the drama of the hanging chads of the 2000 election. In some ways, that time in the early noughties feels like it set the stage for where American politics is now — nationalistic and xenophobic? You are either a flag-waving patriot or you are against us. Hoo-rah!
The Obama years were a great time to be a young adult. We had entered a new era where anything was possible. The racist dog whistling about the President and his family being openly called out, “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” was repealed in 2011, and climate scientists were given a platform, and social justice was having a moment.
While champions of social justice were celebrating Supreme Court decisions, the Republicans and Tea Party right-wing types were strategising, fundraising and preparing for battle in 2016. The gloves were off and instead of civil debate, we were witness to monster truck rally-style spectacles.
The misogyny, racism, ableism, trans/homophobia, xenophobia that is part of current American political platforms isn’t new — but the veil has been ripped off. The pearl-clutching “nice” white liberals shouting “this can’t happen here” were schooled by anti-racist activists and educators. Reproductive healthcare rights were chipped away or desperate migrant families torn apart at the southern border showed everyone that racism didn’t end with the civil rights movement of the 50s/60s and the pearl-clutchers continue to be shocked and appalled at the idea of harbouring any implicit biases (which we all have, by the way).
I acknowledge that I am new here. I can’t vote in New Zealand yet because I haven’t lived in the country continuously for 12 months or more. I’ve also picked up a lot of awareness of political goings-ons from morning news shows while I pack school lunches.
In a recent interview, Te Pati Maori co-leader Debbie Ngarewa-Packer openly shared her optimism for election outcomes and opined that she was looking forward to the end of campaigning. The news programme then showed a clip of Christopher Luxon railing against a Labour Government coalition with Te Pati Maori and the Green Party. He said something along the lines of there being too many cooks in the kitchen with the co-led parties. And I took a beat in packing those lunches.
What is it about white men needing to hold ALL the power?
Why are they so resistant to a more equitable way to share governance?
Building a longer table is so much more inviting than erecting taller walls. I haven’t seen active voter suppression to the extent I saw in the US. I am sure that, as in any contemporary society, there are the disenfranchised and those not inclined to participate, but the “get out to vote” game feels strong here. Driving past orange and black VOTING signs around the city has done nothing but make me smile. And overseas voters can vote online ... mind blown!
Americans love to cling to their “tradition” of voting — which, in lots of places, takes place on one day — and for many it’s a day when they have to go to work, take children to school or daycare, and it may be nearly impossible for some to actually have time to cast a ballot. Some precincts in certain districts clock not minutes, but the hours voters must wait in line to enter their designated polling place to cast their ballot.
And don’t get me started on the Electoral College with all its racist origins. The movements of the current Republican Party to decrease accessibility to vote is being done in plain sight, with right-wing appointed judges gleefully upholding shocking re-districting maps.
For commonalities, the idea that Winston Peters is the kingmaker is reminiscent of the septuagenarians in Washington DC grasping on to power with dear life, gatekeeping the voices of younger generations, and fearing that their relevance is in question. Parallels between Peters and Trump have arisen more than once in my mind ... and I am sure I am not the only one.
But the MMP system still seems to be a fairer way to gather the voices of the people than the American two-party system. Both nations have to weather the old-school boys club way of getting things done, but in America many feel frustrated when voting feels like a choice between the lesser of two evils. Not exactly an empowering or enthusiastic sentiment when heading to the polls.
Pressing on towards election day while dear friends and colleagues back in the US mourn for innocent Israelis and Palestinians massacred by terrorism and the endless cycle of violence has caused me to feel more deeply the 14,000 kilometre distance between here and the US. What I can do is look to the helpers here in Aotearoa.
I don’t see any silverback gorilla chest-thumping calls for war, but a more compassionate lens towards the victims of this horrible humanitarian crisis on all sides. From a safe distance, and as I emerge from hunkering down in fear, I am able to wonder if America’s seemingly endless arsenal is responsible for perpetuating violence not only on the shores of the US, but also around the world. A different, more global view feels possible outside the myopic and self-centred lens that living in the US has offered over recent years.
After being run off the road in suburban Connecticut by a pick-up truck driver shouting pro-Trump slogans the day after the 2016 presidential election, with my young children in the back seat, my hackles have been raised and I was fearful that even my mere existence or a mild disagreement could lead to a violent end.
But I am no longer in that time or place and I am looking forward to the results with anticipation not anxiety, slowly unclenching my jaw and regaining curiosity and enthusiasm about political happenings.
Perhaps I am being lulled into a false calmness in Wellington’s eastern suburbs, where I frequently see rainbows stretch out from the Orongorongos into Te Moana-o-Raukawa, but like many things in Aotearoa, there is kindness, compassion and a seat at the table for all. And that has prevailed in an election season here that seems like it can only exist in fantasy stateside. The banquet of party choice might not feel as robust and expansive when I am able to vote in the next election, and there is ample time for cynicism and frustration to seep in, but I do feel quite sure-footed that the rancorous, cruel tone of American politicians will be told to kiss off, and not be embraced with open arms by the majority of voting New Zealanders.
Having a child with a rare genetic deletion is intense, but there is happiness, too.