Why I support Bernie for President
Recently, the New York Times asked readers why they supported or opposed a particular candidate for POTUS. My answer exceeded the character limit, so I'm printing it here, re-opening my blog after a five-year hiatus.--NW
I grew up in Brooklyn’s Borough Park
during the 1950s. My family—two adults and four children—could best be described lower working
class. My father, who supported us all, worked variously as crate packer at the
Brooklyn Navy Yard, hardware store salesperson, and telephone caller for a
furniture retailer hounding vulnerable consumers, mostly African-American and
Hispanic, who had been lured into putting down payments on lousy furniture, only to quickly find they couldn’t afford it.
And then—Paradise!—Dad,
with his high school diploma, landed a civil service job with the US Bureau of
Customs. We moved up to the moderate
working class.
My parents’ political orientation, to the extent they had
any, was vaguely moderate/liberal: better deals for workers, support of unions,
thank goodness for strict rent control (otherwise we would have been evicted
when my father found himself out of work for months on end), and of course adulation
of FDR. Pretty much like the rest of Borough
Park in those days.
Then came the civil rights movement. My parents were vaguely
in support, although only intellectually, not through any actions. But the
atmosphere in the all white Borough
Park neighborhood changed
drastically, turning ugly, an atmosphere best reflected by the venom expressed
in the broadly asked challenge: “Would you want your sister to marry one of
them?”
“Them,” of course, being you know who.
But by then I was in college—tuition free, unlike today, at
Baruch (at the time the business school of CCNY). On the uptown campus, I came
across a group called the Congress on Racial Equality. I joined, and soon found
myself in Harlem, organizing tenants, joining
sit-ins to demand such radical initiatives as a traffic light on a heavily
trafficked intersection, encouraging people to vote, and the like.
That experience, far more than my family’s early relative
poverty, turned my political and social views upside down. Until then, I had
accepted, without much question, that the US was generally a pluralistic
society, which—notwithstanding some slight class divisions, and some
“prejudice” among white southerners—was essentially open and fair to all,
thanks to our type of economy.
The intervening years, which entailed meeting my future wife
(still together after 43 years), raising two children, and rising way on up to
the middle-middle class, have only
solidified my leftist views, as reflected in some of my actions: among other
things, leading two successful rent strikes, squatting in formerly affordable
buildings to prevent gentrification (no success there, alas), and demonstrating
against all our wars, from Vietnam to Iraq.
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