He Gets It



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I’m about to do something a bit scary: There’s a lengthy op-ed welling up in me, and I’ve a feeling it’s going to require letting the guard way down. But there’s a lot on my heart right now, and I think I need to let it out. 

I’ve shared numerous times over the years my political journey from left to right; how I was raised by liberal Democrats — and remained one myself until my mid-thirties. I don’t wish to belabor that here, but it’s integral to how I’ve landed where I am at this moment, so thank you in advance for your indulgence. 


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I was raised on politics. I cannot divorce the concept of politics from my childhood or from my family. My Dad, sadly gone now for four years, literally got home from the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968 just in time to take my Mom to the hospital to give birth to me. (I was three-and-a-half weeks early but apparently in a hurry to get here and find out what all the commotion was about.) Many of my earliest memories involve politics — putting up campaign signs with my Dad, attending lunch with a then-U.S. Senator, watching the conventions on TV, eagerly participating in the class mock election ahead of the 1976 election. 

This probably sounds bad, but the truth is that politics was a topic of discussion around the family dinner table far more than faith (although we were every-Sunday churchgoers). And the mythos of the Kennedys and Camelot loomed large. 

John F. Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy were both gone by the time I’d arrived — both felled by assassins’ bullets. I have a vague recollection of a portrait of JFK hanging on a wall in our house — but I think I might have that wrong because I can’t actually picture where it was. I do know that there was either a book or magazine (maybe both) on JFK, his life, his family, his assassination on the TV stand in my parents’ bedroom. I spent hours back there (usually because whatever I wanted to watch on TV wasn’t the same as what my siblings wanted to, and as the youngest of four, I got stuck with the smaller black and white set in the bedroom). I recall looking through the images and reflections on JFK and being certain of one thing: He was a hero, and his assassination was a tragedy that left a psychic wound not just on my parents but on our nation. 

Later, as I studied history and politics through high school and college, I learned that the lionization of JFK had glossed over some of his less savory traits and actions. He wasn’t a saint — far from it. But he largely remained a tragic and noble figure in my mind. One of the things we learn as we grow older is that all mortals are flawed and capable of doing great things and simultaneously being miserable wretches. This doesn’t excuse bad behavior — it recognizes that people are complex, and simply labeling them “good” or “bad,” while tempting, rarely captures the full picture. 

The Kennedys were American royalty, and I bought into the fascination with them like so many others did. We, the consumers of the countless images shared and stories told, bore witness to lots of dysfunction and grief, lots of addiction and abuse, but with an underlying thread of steely grit and the sense that there was a love of country and longing for the best American ideals woven into the family’s complex fabric and shining behind those unmistakably toothy grins. 

I didn’t follow RFK Jr.’s career all that closely. I was vaguely aware that he’d had a somewhat checkered youth, was a lawyer and environmental activist, and had some strong — perhaps unorthodox — stances on vaccinations. But he just wasn’t much on my radar. 

I did find his entry into the 2024 presidential race a bit intriguing — particularly as it clearly ruffled some Democrat feathers. 


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Not long after Kennedy’s announced run, I came across a fascinating article about him — it’s lengthy, but it gave an in-depth look at him that prompted me to see him in a somewhat different light. I found the treatment of his candidacy by the Democrat Party, frankly, gross. But I drew some encouragement from the fact that he seemed to be polling decently for an underdog candidate — not because I expected him to win or planned to vote for him myself (we differ on more issues than we agree), but because that told me that on some level, there were still Democrats and moderates out there who weren’t oblivious to the fact that the incumbent had no clothes, little sense, and was botching his presidency badly. In my honest calculation, though I’d not like a lot of it, a Bobby Kennedy presidency would be far less harmful for America than a Joe Biden second term. 

As alluded to earlier, I simply cannot think of my nuclear family and not think of politics, which has gotten a bit more complicated as I’ve traversed the aisle and now sit solidly in the camp on the right because the rest of my original tribe — the people I’ve loved most and longest — still reside on the left. 

And here’s where this gets hard, and I get emotional: There are times when it genuinely hurts — not that we don’t see things the same way, but that we can’t talk the way we used to; we cannot speak freely. There’s always this delicate dance we do — a genuine effort, most of the time, to avoid engaging too much on political topics. I don’t think any of us wants to end up in an argument. I have always vowed — and always will — not to allow politics to trump family. My family will always come first. I will always love them most. But there are times I’m saddened by the sense that they don’t really get me — and maybe don’t really want to? 

I sit in an odd spot: I do see both sides because I have seen both sides — have actually resided in both camps. I see both sides because my training as a lawyer taught me to make a point to do just that so that I could argue my case effectively. I see both sides because my work in the media world requires me to see what “the other side” is saying (and, yes, to critique it). So, it is not difficult for me to understand why those on the left — including my family — view things a certain way. But it is frustrating — particularly when it seems that view may be obstructed. I know firsthand the way the information silos work — I’ve seen them in operation. I know firsthand the way the censorship game works — I’ve seen it in action. 

There are times when I want to shout across the political divide, “Open your eyes! Look past the ‘Republicans BAD’ and ‘Ewww, gross, MAGAts’ crap you’re being spoonfed and actually see what’s going on. And then, if you do, if you genuinely set aside the partisan blinders and absorb the information and still land in the same spot, then fine. At least you’ll know — and I’ll know — you’re there because you sorted through the information and reached your conclusion via critical thinking.” That’s all anyone can ask. And believe it or not, I recognize that there are times when I’m not operating with all the pertinent information either. But the key to overcoming that is knowing you’ve got blind spots and making sure you’re accounting for them. 

I think that’s why Kennedy’s announcement on Friday spoke to me — genuinely affected me. Because what I saw and heard was a man who tried to work within the system he’s always known and the party that for decades was virtually synonymous with his family and came face to face with the ugly truth about the way power works in America (maybe everywhere). I saw a man mourning something he’d long held dear and making peace with the fact that maybe that something no longer existed — if it ever really did. I saw a man wrestling with the realization that the principles he values most are no longer being championed by the party (and maybe even people) he loved and that continuing to fight for those principles might require joining forces with the unlikeliest of allies. 

He’s been cut off at the knees by the Democrat Party, censored, maligned, and (until recently) denied Secret Service protection. And the party that has elevated justifying the means with the ends to an art form is pitching a fit because Kennedy’s doing just that himself: In Donald Trump’s candidacy, he sees a means to an end — the best shot at advocating and moving the ball forward on the issues he cares about most.  

In short, I saw a man going through a process not unlike the one I went through 20 years ago, only his was out loud and live and on the world stage — and with so much more subtext and import, given the history. I saw a man stick his neck all the way out in an effort to make the case for the principles he holds dear, boiled down to ending “the war on free speech, the war in Ukraine, and the war on our children.” 

And then I saw a man whose family thought it their duty to publicly denounce him in a formal statement — not because they disagree with those principles (they didn’t actually address them) — but because he had the nerve — the audacity — to endorse Donald Trump in the process. 


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That they chose to do so struck a raw, white-hot nerve in me. I don’t believe my family would ever stoop to such — and especially not invoke my father’s memory in the process. I can guarandamntee you I wouldn’t. 

I don’t think for one second that Bobby Kennedy had any illusions about what he was doing when he made his announcement on Friday. I have little doubt that he spent countless hours ruminating on it before he did so. 

I don’t know that it will swing the election, but I do know, sure as I’m sitting here today, that his words hit home with quite a few people — and hopefully pricked the consciences of some. 

Kennedy shared a post on Twitter/X Sunday morning that tells me he gets it. 

What “MAGA” really means

The phrase has troubled liberals who think it is a call for a return to an America before civil rights, gay rights, and women’s rights. But I have a more generous interpretation, one that is truer to my experience of Donald Trump as he is today. “Make America Great Again” recalls a nation brimming with vitality, with a can-do spirit, with hope and a belief in itself. It was an America that was beginning to confront its darker shadows, could acknowledge the injustice in its past and present, yet at the same time could celebrate its successes. It was a nation of broad prosperity, the world’s most vibrant middle class, and a idealistic belief (though not consistently applied) in freedom, justice, and democracy. It was a nation that led the world in innovation, productivity, and technology. And it was the healthiest country in the world. I have talked to many Trump supporters. I have talked with his inner circle. I have talked to the man himself. This is the America they want to restore.

Whatever your thoughts on Bobby Kennedy may be, he did something I wish everyone would do before writing off their fellow citizens because they’re voting for “the other guy/gal”: He talked to them. And he listened. 





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