Confessions of a Bad Liberal

I’m a tree-hugging, NRA-hating, gay marriage-supporting, Whole Foods-shopping, NPR-listening, atheist, feminist, borderline socialist liberal. Ask anyone who knows me, especially members of my family, who find my liberalism “cute,” “ naive,” and something that I’ll “grow out of one day” [author’s note: I’m 40 years old]. The vast majority of my friends and colleagues are also card-carrying liberals, and the few libertarians I know mainly just want pot to be legalized.

My liberal credentials are pretty solid: I’m a registered Democrat, and I can’t recall ever having voted for a non-Dem. And I vote early! I've worked for a non-profit organization for, like, a gazillion years, fighting the good fight against polluters and wing-nuts who would have you believe that climate change is a conspiracy theory. I recycle – I mean, duh. But I also compost! And I shop local. I’m a CSA member. I drive a fuel-efficient car, and I drive that as little as possible. I have phone-banked for liberal politicians, canvassed for environmental groups, and espoused liberal viewpoints on various social media sites. I cried tears of joy when Obama won the election. Twice.

But, here’s the thing: sometimes, I commit sneaky, non-liberal acts. And I don’t tell anyone. I’m more apt to share the details of my sexual indiscretions than to ever reveal my deep, dark, politically-shameful secrets. That’s right: my non-liberal deeds feel more subversive to me than the shenanigans of any drunken tryst. For example, I have eaten Hate ChickenTM, a k a Chick-Fil-A, twice in the past six weeks. Not only are the chickens served there grown in horrific conditions on factory farms (I've read Fast Food Nation and watched Food, Inc. Of course.), but this is a company that openly hates the gays. And some of my best friends are gay! But, said chickens are delicious, and sometimes I want to eat them. And so I do.

Also, while I drive a fuel-efficient compact car, it’s not a Prius. And that’s because I fucking hate Priuses  I HATE them. I despise the smug self-righteousness of some Prius drivers, tootling around town in a car that screams, “I am better for the environmental than you!!!” and that probably has a “26.2” bumper sticker on it because all Prius drivers are crazy-healthy athletic types.

When hybrid vehicles first hit the market, I was all about the hybrid Honda Accord, because it looked just like a regular Honda Accord. Honda didn't redesign it in the form of a dumpy space pod just to show the world that it’s both gas- and electricity-powered. And then… Honda stopped making them because nobody bought them. Because HYBRID DRIVERS WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW THEY’RE DRIVING A FUCKING HYBRID. Also, have you ever driven one? It’s not a sweet ride: no acceleration whatsoever, kind of chintzy on the inside, and I don’t trust any car that has a button for its ignition. And you can bet your ass that whomever is driving that green (and they’re always green) Prius in front of you on the highway is going to be going the posted speed limit. In the passing lane.

Which brings me to another dark secret: I get the road rage. Like, really bad. Behind the wheel, I cease being a “live and let live,” decaf-drinking yoga practitioner and turn into a RAGING HATE MACHINE. I probably yell, “For fuck’s sake!!!” at least three times during my daily 10-minute morning commute. I've managed to curtail my more visual displays, because, as a good liberal, I don’t have a gun but someone else might. Oh, and cyclists – much of my vitriol is directed at you. Because you guys are dicks sometimes! And even when you’re not being dicks, it’s still kind of scary to share the road with you, in all your Spandexed vulnerability. I support your right to the road, of course, and just think of all the polar bears you’re saving through your carbon-free mode of transport! But yeah, you freak me the fuck out.

And finally, maybe I have a little bit of a rebellious, libertarian streak, because when state lawmakers established the “education lottery” in 2005, I was all for it. Because it’s a voluntary tax! That I will never pay!! Because I don’t buy lottery tickets!!! While all of my liberal friends were wringing their hands over the lottery’s presumed impact on poor people (and conservatives were doing the same in moral outrage over state-sponsored gambling), I kept my trap shut and let it ride. I don’t necessarily disagree with the argument that lotteries prey on disadvantaged people. However, I do believe that we all have control over how we spend what little money we have. If your thing is scratch-off tickets, have at it. I will be investing my hard-earned cash in local bars. Neither of us is going to win the Nobel Prize in Economics.

So, now that I’ve confessed my hypocrisy, let’s analyze the why of the matter. First, as mentioned above, I have a little libertarian in me – kind of like getting screwed by Rand Paul (zing!). It feels mildly punk rock, like the political equivalent of having a Descendants tattoo, to disagree on at least something, some of the time, with my cohort.

Second, I’m lazy and selfish. If we all boycotted every single company that did something shitty, we’d all die alone, naked and starving. Electric utilities are a significant source of all kinds of air and water pollution, but I don’t see too many people going off the grid. That’s a beautiful diamond; how many Namibians died so you could flash some bling? And I just love your new leather boots, my vegetarian friend.

We all violate our own principles for the sake of convenience (or fashion) every day. So at least I’m in good company. The best I can muster is to patronize those establishments less frequently, with the knowledge that people on the opposite side of the political spectrum are probably giving them even more of their business. So, it’s kind of a wash, really.

And finally, I just really enjoy having sneaky little secrets that I keep to myself. I’m kind of a sharer (read: over-sharer) in general, so this keeps me sane. And I’m positive it saves friendships. I really bristle at political correctness, or that overly earnest vibe that people display when they are so passionate about an issue, but I can totally fake it if the situation calls for it. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy a good political debate. I love them. But in reality, I don’t have that many because my circle of friends is so like-minded. We all want to live in a world in which everyone has equal rights, livestock is raised humanely, and polar bears exist. But I feel pretty certain that we can achieve these lofty goals despite my penchant for Chick Fil A’s spicy chicken sandwich meal. Seriously, have you tried that shit?!

Note: The Bad Liberal is a good liberal like, 87.2% of the time.