False choice

2004 was both a year of political fervor surrounding the presidential elections and the year I turned 18. I was a freshman at Appalachian State, a university where any mention of conservatism brought about a verbal storm from people who deified Michael Moore and yelled on their megaphones about the modern day devil-three guesses who.

The quad was literally a free stage for students to preach about how "distorted and revolting" Republicans were. This was coming from people who had sampled the whole drug spectrum like it was candy and thought going to class, doing work and showering were always optional. I knew liberals at my school were extreme, but this still did not prepare me for the passionate disillusionment that would come with the elections.

Flash back to a month before my very first voting day. I'll be honest-I was not jumping at the chance to register until my English professor explained the importance of sustaining democracy by voting.

"It doesn't matter if you're not passionate about a candidate," he said. "One can argue they have no significant differences, but voting itself is a sustaining feature of democracy."

I liked this rationale for voting especially since he left out the infamous, "It is your obligation as a citizen" speech, which frankly makes voting seem obnoxious and archaic to anyone with an ounce of rebellion in him. I left class that day eager to register and briefly stopped by the quad to see why a crowd had gathered around the makeshift podium.

"Kerry will not let corporations corrupt our souls! Vote Kerry!" said the melodramatic voice on the megaphone.

I guess I missed the part where Kerry became an exorcist, and I guess this megaphone missed the part where Kerry married a corporation. You can't really win an argument with a megaphone though, so I went on my way.

A pleasant surprise awaited me on the sidewalk. A woman was seated behind a big sign that read: "Register here!" I asked her how long it would take.

"I'm a Republican," he replied.

"Well it looks like I need some lunch," she laughed. "And if you could just mark yourself as unaffiliated, registering will be a lot easier."

The guy looked at me dumbfounded as the woman gathered her things, and I quickly marked the unaffiliated box and handed her the form. "Does she not let you register if you're Republican?" he asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders in a daze and walked back to my dorm hearing the echo of the megaphone: "It's the beginning of the end for greedy Republicans!"

Today, I acknowledge that event as one of the greater regrets in my life. I never should have let someone intimidate me into a compromised registration form. What has driven some people to become so fixedly polarized from other parties? And why has party preference become synonymous with the primary presidential candidate representing that party?

Part of a successful democracy involves a balance of powers. I realize I am regurgitating PoliSci 101, but it seems many people have forgotten that the president is not the end-all-be-all of the federal government, nor does he embody all the ideals of his party. At my old school, declaring yourself a Republican was tantamount to saying you were a lackey for President George W. Bush.

Last time I checked, this assumption was characteristic of many non-democratic regimes, but in the United States you can deviate from certain views expressed by the executive power and still maintain a similar party preference.

Sarcasm aside, my point is that your beliefs or even simple agreements with a political party should never culminate in a discrimination against the opposition. A healthy opposition is what makes a democracy work, but if you stumble upon an experience like I did my freshman year of college, do not walk away from it. Going back to my professor's speech about voting-passionate or not-if you believe in democracy then you should contribute to its sustainability. Do not hinder it, and do not give in to hindrance.

Mallory Pickard is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Tuesday.