By Clare Ashcraft
My job is to seek first to understand, then to be understood. As a Bridging Coordinator and Media Analyst at AllSides, I am steeped daily in the best arguments on the political left and right, and I fervently believe understanding the other side is necessary to address the polarization in this country. Listening to those I disagree with is the right thing to do.
But this piece isn't about doing the right thing. It's about the frustration with having to do the right thing. It’s about alienation — an emotion we have all experienced — but the particular brand of alienation that comes with not finding security on either side of the aisle. That’s not to say that this brand of alienation is worse, only that it is real, and it is lonely, though I am not alone in feeling that way.
Politically, I’m in the center, whatever that means in the midst of a political realignment. For me, it means I’m on the fringes of every group. Conservative spaces, in my experience, are more open to my heterodox ideas; but we don’t find much common ground on topics of faith, sexuality or animal ethics, to name a few. In liberal spaces, which are supposedly more supportive of minorities, I can’t openly discuss many of my beliefs.
My friends say they don't know people who are like me. They mean, in part, people who have a rounded understanding of the political landscape and were undecided for most of the election season (which you can hear more about by listening to The Undecideds!). But, they also mean someone who bucks the typical demographic trends and social expectations. By the numbers, I should be solidly on the left — white women with a college degree break 57% for Democrats, lesbian/gay/bisexual women break 83% for Democrats, voters aged 18-24 are 66% Democratic, atheists lean 84% Democratic. I’m also vegan, which is roughly two and a half times more common among liberals than conservatives.
I don’t feel like I’m on terra firma on either of our political sides. Instead, I am a bridge — my diverse views and identities allow me to stretch across different communities. Having one foot on each side of the border allows me to appear grounded and stable, but it means neither is home.
Take the 83% lesbian/gay/bisexual women who lean Democratic. Everyone I knew personally who was posting “I’m blocking anyone who didn’t vote for Kamala,” or “It’s okay to cut people off due to political beliefs, especially if you are a woman or LGBTQ+” after the election was in that demographic. Yet, the people they were aimed at cutting off were people like me, a bisexual woman.
My own community hated me.
One friend posted:
“BTW if you abstained or chose to vote third party you’re…a bad person 💗”
At first, I was hurt, but I wasn’t going to say anything because it was an emotional time for a lot of people and I figured it wasn’t worth it. If I didn’t say anything, no one would know I voted third party and it would all blow over, leaving our friendship unmarred.
But, I also felt obligated to say something. I felt like there should be space for my emotions, too. People are allowed to be angry and sad and devastated by the election results, but as soon as it turns into lashing out at others or characterizing them as evil, it has crossed a line. So, I sent her a voice note.
