The Magic 8 Ball election

I was raised Republican the way other kids are raised Catholic or Protestant.  

My mother is a Rush Limbaugh-loving Southerner who has never met a conspiracy theory she didn’t like. My father, Alex Castellanos, while less likely to pick up a torch, ran Republican presidential campaigns and has been a commentator on several Sunday shows and news networks. If you’re trying to place him, he looks eerily like the MyPillow guy. 

As I grew up, DC politics permeated every aspect of my life. The State of the Union was a family event, Secret Service followed us to our high-school volleyball games and senators surrounded our Thanksgiving table.  

One of my earliest political memories is marching around my kitchen table during Bill Clinton’s first presidential campaign with a sign protesting, “Mr. Boo.”  My first full sentence on this planet was, “You can’t tell me what to do.” My parents knew that once I grew into my own opinions, I would not hold them back.  

Fast-forward to a few years after college, when I moved to the somewhat less conservative enclave of Venice Beach, California. There, I honed my recycling skills. “You have to snip the plastic soda holders! Think about the turtles!” my roommate shouted. Anything I said that neared conservatism was quickly shot down by my liberal friends. Shamed until my shame became belief, I began to fear the dreaded, women-hating, environment-wrecking barbarian known as “the Republican. “ 

On Election Day 2016, I returned to my California home after a surf and turned on CNN to find my dad prophesying Trump’s victory.  I proudly tore the “I VOTED” sticker from my wetsuit: I’d just voted for Hillary.  

It wasn’t just Republican shame that sent me dripping to the polls. I remained a fiscal conservative. I believed in trickle-down economics, tax cuts to propel bottom-up growth, and the government staying out of my damn business. Socially, however, I leaned liberal. I wanted to inhabit the Everyman persona attributed to Democrats, someone who fights for social equality, supports welfare programs, and cares about the turtles.   

Fast forward again, this time to 2020. Like many, I moved home during the pandemic. Unlike many, I stayed. With my parents. Yes, you read that right. I am sleeping in my childhood bedroom. To be fair, my parents have provided tremendous support as I’ve been ill for the last four years.  Why this digression? Because when you are too sick to get off the sofa, you are too sick to combat a constant stream of Fox News. An eternal optimist, I chose to lean into this unexpected circumstance, creating a family rallying cry of “Let’s get outraged!” every night before we turned on The Five.   

Whenever The Five said something… outrageous, I’d make my father pause the TV and ask, “Why are the Dems saying Trump wants to stop IVF?  That can’t be true, can it?  If I were on David Axelrod’s sofa right now, what would he say, other than ‘Why are we watching Fox?’”   

“It’s not true,” my dad said. 

I did the research. He was right.  

Like many voters in our polarized world, I’m straddling the divide between Democrat and Republican. Our nation has never been angrier and more torn apart by Twitter, attack ads and our desperation to make things right.  I refuse to let fear guide me. Here is where I come down. 

I do not know what Kamala Harris stands for. I don’t think she does, either. I find her obtuse and ill-prepared. She has shared her talking points, not her values. As a card-carrying member of the vagina club, however, the idea of voting for Trump is painful. He is caustic and hyperbolic. Voting for either one is voting for a Magic 8 Ball. Who knows what answer it will provide? 

In the end, I do not trust the government to make the best decisions for me, about my body or my business. This time around, I will vote for the party, not the person.  

Don’t let me down, @realDonaldTrump. I’m trusting you with my vote November 5.  Consider it a victory for good parenting: Mom and Dad raised an independent soul.  

Cat Castellanos writes fiction and non-fiction. You can find her at @catcastell on X and Instagram.