Inside the frazzled mind of the undecided suburban mom voter

I’m a registered Independent voter, part of the coveted suburban mom vote, and as I file this in the dying days of September, I have no idea how — or if — I’m going to vote for president in the upcoming election. I’m not deciding between Kamala and Trump — does that even exist? Folks are trying to decide between Kamala… and Trump? That’s like trying to decide if you prefer listening to Insane Clown Posse or the Boston Philharmonic. I’ll let you decide who’s who. I’m sure they do exist, the ones waiting to pick, but I think a much more common question is, “Do I vote for one of these two clowns — or not at all?” I went with no one in 2020. I might do it again. The coward’s vote. The non-vote.

Five years after I wrote my “battle cry of the politically homeless,” I still feel like neither major party represents me. In many ways, nothing has changed: I still think everyone in politics is awful — probably even more since I’ve remained immersed in the culture wars. The cloud of authoritarianism is still creeping from all directions. We have real problems neither side seems interested in solving — because a solution would mean the problem can’t be weaponized against their opponents. The State has too much power and no one is interested in minimizing it.

However, quite a lot has changed for me personally. In August 2019, when I wrote that piece, I had a boyfriend and lived in West Los Angeles. Now that boyfriend is my husband, we have a miracle child and, like so many others, we fled Commiefornia to live just outside of Austin, Texas.

Having a child has been radicalizing in ways that I didn’t expect it to be. I no longer have the luxury of being too cool for school, the kid in the back of class sneering at how dumb everyone is for caring. Now I have literal skin in the game. Suddenly it matters who’s on the school board and what weirdo gender stuff my kid is being taught in kindergarten. I also have to think about things like the future of humanity, longevity and retirement. Ew.

I still feel politically homeless, only it’s different: I don’t know which candidate terrifies me more. Who do I think will shred the Constitution? Who will preserve free speech? If it’s avoidable at all, which it doesn’t feel like, who will keep us from getting into World War Three or Civil War Two? Will Kamala stack the Supreme Court? Will she confiscate the guns? Does Trump actually care about free speech? Or anyone other than himself and his ego and hawking his watches and crypto?

Most days I think Kamala — along with the machine that is the DNC, the mainstream media, Hollywood, academia, the security state and all of our other institutions — is the scarier of the two options. The Machine. Undoubtedly all of these people — the White House press corps, the aides, the insiders and Kamala herself — have taken part in what should be one of the greatest scandals of the past few decades: the cover-up of Biden’s mental decline. And yet… no one will be held accountable. I could make the case against Harris on that issue alone.

The fact that I am even considering voting for Trump this time around is something to reflect upon. I’m not alone. My groupchats are all some version of, “So, we’re all voting for Trump, right?”

I won’t decide the election — I’m in Texas — but I’m exactly the kind of voter who will. If you had told Bridget of 2015 that Bridget of 2024 would even be considering voting for Trump, I would have said, “Oh wow, so I go crazy in the future. That’s unfortunate.”

I know exactly where Kamala’s policies (whatever they might be — we may never know) lead. I fled a blue state for a red state. I don’t want Kamala to win — but I don’t know if I can vote for Trump either. So I feel like a coward. By default, I don’t want Trump to lose — but I don’t want to vote for him, either. It’s like picking between Wendy’s and Burger King. They both suck — but you still have to eat.

Who knows what will happen between now and the election? Maybe Biden will resign and make Kamala president as the October surprise. God forbid there is a terrorist attack or someone actually succeeds in taking Trump out.

By the time my column about Biden stepping aside came out, Biden was out and Trump had survived his first assassination attempt. When I reread it, it seems like a completely different person wrote it.

I wonder what Bridget will walk into the voting booth.

This article was originally published in The Spectator’s November 2024 World edition.