Strolling through my town’s 4th of July fair this morning I saw a table for the Merrimac Valley Tea Party. At first I thought this was another bake sale tent or perhaps the newest incarnation of bourgeoisie socializing. After all, the crazies I scoffed at in the South and Midwest couldn’t have a stronghold in my little New England suburb, could they? Then I noticed the “Don’t tread on me flag” and had to swallow my coastal superiority complex.
I have a pathological need to pick fights with people in power. This is likely the sassy backlash of a WASPy childhood where I lacked the language and clout to carve out space for myself. Wherever this fire of contrariness originated, it broiled right up as I realized that the libertarian lunatic fringe was holding court in the middle of the face-paint and fried dough festivities. I decided to go have a chat.
I’ve learned that starting a conversation by going in swinging ensures that they will swing back and discount anything you say. So I decided to play dumb and see where things went. I fiddled with freebie copies of the Constitution until a middle-aged woman with pearls and a Bermuda-vacation-tan greeted me. Thinking I’d open with a low-ball question, I asked, “So what is this about?” Blank stare and smile, “Excuse me?” Worried I’d confused her, I innocently rephrased my question, “I just wandered over here and was wondering what you stand for.”
“Oh, the Tea Party stands for freedom.” Dear me. The $100 on GW Bush Jeopardy buzzword. “Freedom, low taxes. About ‘We the People.’ You don’t want the government all in your life.” She’s fumbling and admits she’s drawing a blank. I wonder if the chapter is so small that she’s only one who’d volunteer to staff the table or if everyone is as confused about why they’re members. Finally, she settles triumphantly on, “We’re basically against everything Obama.” I nod encouragingly, wondering if this would be an appropriate time for me to out myself as a queer crusader or whether I should develop our rapport to make the outing extra juicy. She saves me from this quandary by pulling over an older gentleman and asking him to elaborate on the party points.
The Scrouge introduced as the chapter founder won’t look me in the eye as he mutters about money and taxes. I sense my likelihood of connection is higher with the cheery woman and her buddy, also smiling encouraging at me, so I drop the question I’m sure will repel the grump. “What does the Tea Party think about LGBT rights?” I have to repeat the question three times. First to explain the acronym, then restating the terms, through whether I’m repeating because the average age of the staffer is 80 and they’re hard of hearing or whether because these are unheard of concepts, I’m not sure. Halfway through my third speaking of “bisexual,” Scrouge realizes what I’m asking, harumphs, “We’re not involved in any of that, this is about fiscal issues,” and trundles off.
The best thing about being friendly to people who don’t like you is that they don’t know how to get rid of you without violating their own codes of politeness. This is especially true when the people are stuck behind a table and supposed to be recruiting new drones. Beaming at my new friends and deciding to keep things as simple as possible for them, I hedged, “You’re talking about freedom and ‘we the people’ and protection from government. Gay people have been excluded from lots of freedoms and historically have faced lots of violence from the government, especially from the police, so it seems like this sort of a freedom platform would align nicely with gay rights.”
The two women looked at each other and one tentatively offered that New York and, she thought, Massachusetts were going to start offering gay marriage. Though Massachusetts was the first state to legalize same-sex marriage and that was 7 years ago, I breathed, “Wow” with gratitude and wonder. The first woman asked my name, shook my hand, and held my gaze as she proclaimed, “This is an issue of freedom and the Tea Party could be very important for your freedom. Issues about your future.” She then pressed a leaflet into my hand and passionately encouraged me to attend their next meeting. I took their information, waved a nailpolished-bespeckled hand goodbye and set off.
How surprising. Even a pro-gay Tea Party would be a disaster since the platform is premised on racism and the worst kind of boots-strap classism. But I was startled to see that these people in the party had so little sense of ideological cohesion that I could use the rhetoric to guide one of the staff people to a conclusion diametrically opposed to the social tenor of the party. And it’s always good to remember that conservative politics aren’t just in the South, in the Midwest, in the back country, in the boardroom, etc. In fact, for any of us living in suburbs or going to private schools, they’re probably around us all the time.
