The GOP Lost Me For Being Too Hateful And Eager To Engage In Bad-faith Rhetoric.

I grew up in Maricopa County. Mesa is the home of my youth, where I came of age and into my own from elementary school to college. Naturally, Mesa was also my cradle of political activism and civic involvement, the first place where I voted in a presidential election, and where, through church and school, where I found myself rooted deeply in the far right machine of political activism that swirled around the east valley of Maricopa County in the 90s. From my constitution-loving charter school education to my leadership role in my local college chapter of College Republicans, I was deeply entrenched and eager to make a difference for the conservative cause. My first job after high school was phone banking for Jeff Flake’s very first congressional run.

All along the way, it was ingrained in my bones that Republicans voted for morally upstanding individuals. The conservative movement stood for families, or so they said, and the political right did, in fact, have the corner market of religion and politics, or so they insisted. But with the hindsight of 2020, I can see that when they looked at the prospect of Trump in the face and deliberately tossed all of their deeply held beliefs under the bus in order to be a part of an unconstitutional power grab that has culminated this week — the week before the election — in the confirmation of an inexperienced and partisan justice for the Supreme Court, is when I realized, again, this indelible truth: I wasn’t wrong about what I thought I had been taught. I was conned. It was the right-wing machine that used my values against me in a bad-faith appeal to cement the loyalty of my vote.

This wasn’t the first time I realized this. I mentioned I was pretty involved with my local chapter of College Republicans. In that role, I often attended events where locally elected officials would come and speak to their base, and get our eager butts involved in their efforts.

It was at one such event where I heard an elected official spew anti-immigrant rhetoric that sounded more like fear-mongering rather than inspired ideas that worked to enlist our time and energy in achieving. The next thing I knew, there was talk of heading to the border with guns. It spiraled so fast. When asked if I was going to come along, I must have looked shocked. I said no. I was instantly, reflexively accused of not being a true-believing conservative.

This was a watershed moment for me. I learned just how quickly my hesitation or disagreement with anything could so easily be grounds for questioning my loyalty to the party. Later, when I transferred to BYU, I was similarly confronted by a College Republican there as I walked through campus and past his recruitment booth. Did I want to join, he asked. When I declined while passing by, he shouted “I guess you believe in abortion and killing babies then!”

Now, I’m no longer conservative. You might say the water got a little too hot. It’s been hot for a while. It’s no wonder that a hot-under-the-collar, reactionary bully has animated the party that once stood for something. But as for me, I’d like to seek a kinder climate, one where we don’t assume the worst of each other, and where who we elect represents the best of our intentions and not the worst of our reactions.

Joe Biden is a decent man with a record of building genuine relationships among our elected representatives, regardless of what policy disagreements they may have. That’s the kind of level-headed leadership I’d like to see a return to the White House. Let’s lower the temperature, and elect a president who will help inspire a nation to start talking, not shouting, to each other again.