Words fumbled out of my mouth in a blur, each one coming faster and faster like I was trying to outrun my own thoughts. My hands tensed and became clammy, and I felt the eyes of the classmates around me as I tried to think of an argument. How could I be wrong?
This was my first political argument, and at that moment it was clear to me: I had no idea what I was talking about.
My interest in politics arose came from my strong the strong opinions I had when I was in elementary school. I remember my parents telling me about a man named Donald Trump in 2016, and thinking, to myself, how could we elect this guy? I heard about how he was a fraud, and how he planned to deport immigrants and all the people he insulted. I thought, How could there be so much injustice in the world? I would throw around words like “privilege” and “racist” without knowing their true meanings, but I was sure I was on the right side of history. As a kid, I saw the world as black and white: some people were right while others were just plain wrong. I was liberal, and absolutely hated Republicans. I believed the same things as my parents, not bothering to figure out what other people felt or where they were coming from.
As I got to middle school,, I started using social media, and the rigid view I had of the world only got worse. I saw Ben Shapiro, whosewho’s rapid-fire delivery and confident takedowns appealed to me. I watched as he dismantled and debunked everything I thought I believed. He was someone who was unafraid to challenge mainstream beliefs and criticized “feelings over facts,” something that appealed to me. I ate up soundbites and rage-bait political content that had the goal of creating conflict rather than coming to an agreement with the opposing side. I started questioning my liberal views, and parroting Shapiro. I dismissed entire perspectives as “leftist nonsense” and rolled my eyes at the same people I once agreed with. I would scroll through memes on X that made fun of politicians and different groups without making an actual argument.
I thought I had discovered the truth. I thought I had outgrown my childish brain and discovered something new. In a way, I had changed — I learned to question my beliefs rather than accept them blindly. However, I was still doing the same thing as before — treating political beliefs as right versus wrong, black and white. The only difference was that I had switched sides.
Then, in that argument, I realized that there was much more to politics than anger and disagreement. I started talking to people who had different opinions than me and understood the importance of accepting others.
It may not have been just that argument, but a gradual realization that I had never understood what I was talking about. I would often hear holes in the arguments of the people I followed, or areas they could have explored but chose not to to keep the videos short and clickbait. When I actually started studying instead of arguing, I realized politics wasn’t just about “owning” the opponent or proving who was right. It was about understanding people’s diverse perspectives.
I realized that the conservative opinions I had were based on an assumption: that feelings didn’t matter, when in reality many conservative arguments were based on anger or hate or the desire to prove oneself right, all things very heavily impacted by emotions. I had been drawn to political commentators not because I actually agreed with them, but because they made me feel smart by “winning” the arguments they were in.
I don’t regret any of the opinions I have had. While in the moment I may have been misled, they taught me to take a step back and reexamine my worldview when it was challenged. It’s easy for people to follow ideologies that make them feel correct or validated, but even harder to accept that true maturity comes from embracing disagreement, not running from it.
