It's not easy being green

They say the world is constantly changing. Turning, spinning, warming, and growing. As temporary fixtures in the world, one can safely argue that we are all a part of that growth, ever changing from one day to the next. As a freshly inaugurated twenty-something, I often feel myself experiencing these changes as rapid fire; so fast and fervent that it’s sometimes daunting to separate them and make sense of the spare parts. Thus far, the biggest change of all has occurred on the inside; in the shape of my inner politick. As a high school student of the art-geek variety, I was never the type to consider the political spectrum as much more than a week’s worth of stealth napping and chapter-skimming- but then the unthinkable happened: I turned eighteen during the onslaught of a federal election. Being a savvy, cultured and undeniably exuberant knowledge-seeker, I set out to educate myself on the issues in an attempt to finally select the political philosophy with which I would align myself on Election Day. The night before the election, my Dad sat me down for what I like to refer to as “the talk”. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly “The Talk”, as I had figured all that out for myself with the aid of some rather lurid poetry scrawled on an elementary school bathroom door. But it was equally awkward and unnecessary.

“Now honey, you’re participating in something very important tomorrow,” He had said in an equally paternal and patronizing tone. “And I want you to know that even though you’re young and inexperienced in politics, your vote is your chance to voice your opinion and it absolutely counts…”

Could this be? I was somewhat taken aback by all this seemingly profound encouragement. I quickly sat up straight began to describe all of the effort I had put into researching the election.

“Oh I totally know, and I’ve been doing a lot of research and-”

“-And you should vote Liberal, just like your mother and I do. We always have”. And with that he ended our little pep talk with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head.

The thing was, I had wanted to vote Liberal anyway. If he had of given me enough time to get into my well-prepared diatribe, I probably could have given him a few reasons to vote Liberal that he didn’t even know about. The point is, as a teenager we’re automatically marginalized and categorized to vote just like Mom and Dad.

Now, historically, the relationship between teenagers and politics (of the non-sexual variety, that is) has been a tenuous one and I was no exception to the rule. It was somewhere around the time that I switched from hot chocolate to coffee and high school to university that I began to seriously take an interest in political on goings. University was bursting with worldly avenues. Organizations like Amnesty International, World Vision, and Oxfam Canada offered a plethora of insight and political awakening for me. I suddenly felt as though I was surrounded by this wild and passionate myriad of conflicting opinions and philosophies. It was as though the dark hall of political ignorance through which I traversed daily during high school had now taken me to a solarium where even my old-faithfuls, music and art seemed to be under the seductive influence of the political spectrum. I found myself entertaining a desperate desire to discover it further and even, ahem, become involved. (Involvement, of course, remains vehemently opposed in the realm of the art-geek).

Now, by getting involved I don’t mean becoming a politician. What I mean is becoming a political activist. In high school I was a part of a warless generation. We were a group of angst-ridden teen-agers with nothing to be angry about. However, around graduation time, things changed for the worse and as I result I experienced a sudden growth spurt. I was no longer interested in my parent’s politics. I understood why the youth of this country shunned political education as it more often dealt with tax cuts, pension growth and religion. I mean, come on, bickering about land tax and the definition of marriage is hardly punk rock. Suddenly when pundits and pollsters called the house I felt the need to ask them questions. Why weren’t the candidates making an effort to discuss issues relevant to “green” voters? What effort was being made to include a reduction of tuition rates? Voting became a serious issue and it snowballed around other serious issues such as Canada’s part in the U.S invasion of Iraq. On March 20^th 2004, I participated in a rally at Nathan Phillips Square with several thousand of my fellow youth that was undeniably political as it marked the anniversary of George Bush sending troops into Iraq. That day, “green voters” proved that stepping up and speaking in your own voice truly does make a difference, as it was shortly after many similar rallies, held nation-wide months earlier, when Prime Minister Jean Chrétien announced that Canada would not support a war in Iraq without a U.N Sanction. Were we partly responsible for that victory? Was I partly responsible for that victory? No one can say for certain, but what can be said is that during that particular week, there wasn’t any stealth napping nor any chapter-skimming.

Of course, getting your feet wet in the political spectrum early on doesn’t come without opposition. I have been met many a time by the familiar paternal voice of the eternal, self-proclaimed “elder” who dutifully lets me know what’s right and what isn’t, what’s real and what’s superficial and all the miles that separate one from the other. They say the world is constantly changing and growing. If it’s true then as temporary fixtures in the world, we’re all constantly changing and growing. If it’s true, then it’s a wild ride and I won’t be caught at a stand-still. As a former apolitical art-geek turned shrewd knowledge-seeker, I can safely say that my newfound political voice is based on my own wisdom and experience – not family tradition