But You Seem So Reasonable

Want to understand the Bush voter? Have dinner with one of them.

by Nancy French

It was a "blind date" of sorts, with other Philadelphia writers I knew only through an Internet listserv. When we all arrived, it felt like we were being "punk'd" — two of us turned out to be members of the dreaded "Christian right" and the other two were leftist, liberal feminists. I figured that this would be a long night — especially since only hours earlier, Kerry conceded the election to Bush. Emotions were raw.

We weren't supposed to talk about politics — a guideline established when the liberals realized I'm a transplanted Southerner with a conservative point of view.

So, we decided to stay on the safe topic of writing, until the suburban housewife explained her literary focus: "I write about Christian social activism."

I held my breath while she revealed not only was she a Republican but also a preacher's wife. If the food hadn't been ordered, I may have bolted. So I tried to lighten the mood.

"In normal circumstances," I said, "I doubt we'd all be having dinner."

The tension dissipated like celebrities after a Republican win. The Democrats laughed and admitted they'd never had dinner with two evangelical Christians.

Which gets to the heart of the matter. Most urban liberals are so isolated from "red-state America," their image of us is far from accurate — usually more of a caricature pieced together from countless cliches than on any real relationships.

For example, yesterday I came out of the closet with some moms at playgroup about my political orientation, and a mom said, "Are you saying, you're a …" not even wanting to say the word "Republican" aloud in Three Bears Park. And when I told her I voted for Bush, her response was, "But you seem so reasonable."

The mothers at the park that day — who exchanged worried glances before averting their eyes from our conversation — reminded me of old Tennessee hillbillies when the subject of black people came up. Because there were very few blacks in the coal-mining towns, they had little contact with them and just assumed the worst. It's hard for any group to understand another when they won't deign to talk to them.

Illustrating this divide even further, a Republican official recently asked the staff of a national newspaper to raise their hands if they knew a born-again Christian. None went up. Then he asked who knew a homosexual. Every hand went up.

This impromptu poll is significant because nearly 40 percent of Americans consider themselves as born-again or evangelical Christians, while less than 5 percent are gay. No wonder the sleeper subject of this election — social issues — went undetected by the press.

Which is odd, since the red states are perceived as a large, ignorant voting block. But the numbers tell a different story. Almost half of Nashvillians voted for Kerry. Compare that with the Kerry-Bush margin of 4 to 1 in Philadelphia and Manhattan. The narrow margins in the heartland are nothing like the landslides for Kerry in the major urban centers — I've attended suburban mega-churches with more diversity than Center City.

This is why the dinner with the Philadelphia-area writers was so priceless. Instead of avoiding God and politics, we delved headfirst into both. We discussed the offensive behavior of the religious activists at a recent gay pride parade — a group of Christians were holding signs with Scripture quotes, shouting at an obviously flustered transvestite speaker. And then we talked about my experience voting the previous day where some liberal voters — upon hearing my red-state accent — told me to "go back home and don't come back until you can speak the language." And they listened with compassion as I told them about another Democrat who told me he'd never met a Republican and wondered if my politics were due to a troubled childhood.

No voices were raised, no arguments made. The main ingredient of the evening, in fact, was laughter.

At one point, one of the Democrats said, "It seems we all essentially want the same thing." Which is probably true.

When the macaroni was eaten and the coffee consumed, we left each other reluctantly. One of the Democrats commented that dinner with us after the decisive Bush victory was just what they needed — a window into the red-state world that wasn't as frightening as they previously believed.

And the view from our side of the table was pretty encouraging as well.

Nancy French is a novelist from Center City. If you would like to respond to this Slant or submit one of your own (800 words), contact Duane Swierczynski, City Paper Editor in Chief, 123 Chestnut St., Third Floor, Phila., Pa., 19106, or e-mail Duane Swierczynski.