Fatherhood

My son is voting for Ken Paxton, and that's on me

That thing where you wait too long to tell your kids about monsters, and the monsters find them first.

It's election season here in Texas (and elsewhere, I assume), so that means every time my son, Matador, turns on the YouTube, he has to watch a political ad from Greg Abbott about how Democrats are destroying the state because, as you know, they have been in power for the last thirty years. And every time, my son sits there watching intently, waiting for the little SKIP button to pop up, which doesn't show up until after Abbott's "transgender bad" talking point.

But even if Matador's father were a successful science fiction author with enough income to afford YouTube Premium, he'd still have to go to and from school every weekday, and would therefore be exposed to the print propaganda lining our streets. It's the kind of thing you'd think a nine-year-old would ignore.

And yet, when asked who he's voting for in the upcoming elections, Matador says he is voting for Ken Paxton.

Why? Because, as he explains it, James Talarico is for higher taxes, and Ken Paxton is for lower taxes.

What exactly are taxes? He doesn't know. What are they used for? No clue.

Does Matador even pay taxes? Enough with the silly questions!

The point is, the TV said Paxton good, Talarico bad, so that's what he knows.

We get the impression that Matador and his fellow fourth graders are actively discussing politics, regurgitating talking points straight from Fox News, and it feels inevitable that our son will come home one day saying, "immigrants are destroying this country." At which time, we'll send him packing with $100 and a copy of our family tree.

Obviously, I blame myself. As a father, I've succumbed to a desire to shield my children from the horrors of the world until the last possible moment. It's the same instinct that makes me hold my tongue when Matador shouts, "Look! A cybertruck! So cool!" or when he asks to read the next Harry Potter book.

But instead of protecting him, I've left him ill-equipped to deal with the reality of his life in Texas. And America. And this planet.

The problem, I think, is my Gen X cynicism and laziness. I don't want to spend time enumerating the many ways Abbott and Paxton have made life worse for people in Texas, or how Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg are using their wealth to interfere in the government and elections. I just want to say, as Abbott does in his ads, "This person is bad," and therefore, we shouldn't support them.

We ended up having an abbreviated version of The Talk with Matador, how discussing politics and religion may make some people feel excluded, and that by showing his support for someone like Paxton, he's essentially supporting Paxton's policies, which he doesn't know about and probably wouldn't understand if he did.

Ultimately, the only thing we did was urge caution and ask him to consider other people's feelings, whatever the topic may be. He's free to vote for Paxton if he wants to. I'll understand it even less than when I see friends on Instagram following Trump and Melania, but there's nothing I can really do about it.

People are free to believe what they want.

That was The American Way.

One day, I'll get to explain to Matador how and why that changed, why no politician should ever be trusted, and how there can be no ethical consumption under capitalism. But that can probably wait until after he learns who's really leaving money under his pillow when he loses a tooth. It's quite the leap going from "the tooth fairy isn't real" to "here's how J.K. Rowling spends her Harry Potter money."

In the meantime, I'll keep trying to help direct Matador's sail with some gentle encouragement to think about others as much as he thinks about himself. It may not be the right approach, and it may not work, but I don't see any alternative except ripping off the veil and forcing him to stare into the abyss.

If there's a better way, I still have a little time to find it. And if I don't, I'll forever be haunted by the immortal words of comedian Christopher Rock: