I feel sick when I think about the national debt and the trade imbalance. I’m terrified for our economy, built on the assumption that we’ll keep traipsing off to the mall to spend, spend, spend. And I want our troops to bid a hasty adieu to Iraq yesterday.
Sadly, I have little energy these days for political causes. Instead, I ponder such matters as: Did my daughter poop today? Did she poop yesterday or the day before? Do I have any prunes in the pantry? Do I have any other high-fiber foods on hand?
As for activism … well … I watch The Daily Show. Sometimes.
My daughter’s birth in 2006 motivated me to get involved politically. Before Celia, I was a newspaper reporter, forbidden from publicly expressing opinions. Through my reporting I was able to advance issues I thought were worthwhile, such as the emptiness behind the No Child Left Behind slogan.
But I couldn’t put signs in my yard or bumper stickers on my car, much less get involved in any real way. Over the years I became cynical. Vote. Hope for the best. Brace for the worst.
Once I held Celia, much of my cynicism melted away. If I didn’t believe there was hope for our society, I wouldn’t have become a mom.
When she was a few months old, I rented the documentary, You Can’t Be Neutral on a Moving Train, about passionate, prolific, and hopeful activist, Howard Zinn. I was half asleep when I pushed Play, but in my dazed state I heard someone—maybe Alice Walker—comment that a politically engaged life is more exhilarating and rewarding than a detached, self-involved existence. I was inspired by the message I barely heard.
Yet almost a year later, I have done little to feel politically engaged. I tutor at my neighborhood elementary school. Truthfully, I signed up when the principal put me on the spot. I love working with my assigned pupil, Charles, but each session reminds me how desperately large-scale change is needed.
Scarcity of time is not my only barrier. I now inhabit a world that in some ways is more suited to the newsroom ideal of keeping your political views to yourself. I’m a work-from-home mom. My friendships with other moms are my lifelines, my sanity, and my daughter’s opportunity to play with other kids while I talk shop with women who are similarly perplexed about car seats.
