Call Me "Stubborn"

Last Sunday, Manzanita posted for the first time in several weeks. She explained that she’d been sore at heart because of what was happening politically in the United States. I do not know whether she stands to the left or the right of where I feel comfortable politically. Nevertheless, I admire her courage in speaking out about the seemingly self-serving response of many congressional members to the big questions of our day. As I read her posting, I began to think of my own journey to the political philosophy I espouse today.

            My mother served as an election judge throughout my childhood. I took for granted that politics was important to my parents. Still, I entered the convent a political neophyte. I knew my family voted Democratic, but I didn’t know where they stood on particular issues.

            In the 1960 election, John Kennedy, a Catholic, ran against Richard Nixon. I was teaching in Omaha. As I remember, I lived with thirteen other nuns. On Tuesday, November 8, we donned our capes in preparation for the trip to the polls. The convent superior locked the door behind us and said, “Well, we’re ready. Fourteen votes for Kennedy!”            

            Immediately, I determined to vote for Nixon. Not because I liked him or even knew anything about him. After all, I wasn’t permitted to read the newspaper, listen to the radio, or watch television. No. I voted for Nixon out of pure stubbornness. No one was telling me how to think. My vow of obedience meant I obeyed my superior with regard to living the Holy Rule, but I was certain this vow did not apply to how I thought—or voted. Still, no political savvy here. Just, “You can’t tell me how to vote.”

Photo of John F. Kennedy from Wikipedia

            One other time in the convent I did something political out of pure stubbornness. In 1965, some states were beginning to consider legalizing abortion in cases involving incest or rape. At the time, I was teaching in Baileyville, Kansas. The superior there told me to write to our state representative as an anti-abortionist.

            I refused to do so. Once again, no one was going to tell me how to think. The fact is I’d never thought about abortion. The truth may be that I’d never even heard the word before. I can’t remember that I knew what it meant. I knew only that I wasn’t going to be told what to do politically. My parents hadn’t raised a conformist.

            Of course, I wasn’t pro-abortion. Who is really? And I didn’t know about being pro-choice as that word didn’t enter our lexicon until the early 1970s. No, there was no serious thought or discussion here. Simply my innate stubbornness. Later I realized that my uninformed decisions were simply that—uninformed. If I were to become politically active, I needed to read. Study. Research. Listen to views from every side.

            I wasn’t able to do this in the convent at that time, but when I left on Christmas Eve 1966, I was. And so I have become in some ways, a political junkie.

            On Saturday I’ll share with you my first foray into being an activist.

                                                                        (Continued on Saturday . . . )
PS: Today the blog McGuffy's Reader features photographs of Dulcy and a wonderful review of her book.