Why I Support Beto O’Rourke
Preface: This is not a discussion of Beto’s policy, though it does play a part. It should serve as an analysis of his personage and as a story of the role he and his candidacies have had on my life and growth as an aspiring public servant. Please, in any discussion, remain civil and true, and thank you for reading.
In the latter half of 2016, my senior year of high school, and during the pinnacle of discovering my political identity I, too, discovered Beto O’Rourke. While scrolling through Facebook, I came upon an advertisement for Beto’s senate campaign. “Donate today and take Cruz out of office” was the gist of the ad, and I was hooked. I immediately needed to know who this guy was, what he stood for, and what in his right mind would make him think that challenging someone with as much political clout as Ted Cruz in a state as beet-red as Texas was ever a good idea.
With my peaked curiosity, I researched. I read his policy proposals and became familiar with his political resume thus far. I watched his speeches and read his Medium essays. The more I dug, the more I searched for a reason to be in disbelief, to doubt his prowess, but I only became more impressed and hopeful for the Senate candidate Beto O’Rourke. His words were energizing and his message was the most sincere I had ever seen from any political candidate of my lifetime. His heart, soul, and pit stains were in the race, and so were mine. The issue, however, was the fact that I was, then, 17, and had been born, raised, and resided in Arizona. Therefore, what I could truly do to support the candidate was limited to ordering some stickers off of the campaign website and donating when I could. Those stickers are now and will remain plastered to the laptop I write this allegory on.
The years of the senate race continued and Beto only became more tenacious. His, now famous, and viral speech of his support for those NFL players who kneeled in protest of racial divisiveness was sent to me by a good friend of mine. I was, then, a first-semester freshman at the University of Arizona and had also begun interning for the second congressional district, collecting polling data regarding specific issues constituents had. It was tedious, boring, and fairly unimpactful, and has served as a reminder of exactly the type of politics I hope to never incite in my future professions, whatever role or level I may play. I was, too, becoming distraught. ‘If this is the current state of politics, if it’s all just a machine with no heart or soul, then what is the point? Why am I striving for greatness when all outcomes seem predestined? Why do I care?’ I had also, in that time, strayed slightly away from Beto and his campaign in the flurry of beginning college and all that comes with it. It was after a shift at the phones, during my travel home that I received that message from my friend. It read, attached with the video, “I don’t know who this guy is, but he reminds me of you, your passion, and how you dictate” (again, I’m paraphrasing as the message has since been deleted, but those were the highlights that have stuck with me since receiving it).
As the semesters trudged on, I was nearing my departure for boot camp. I had planned on joining the Navy Reserves (which I am currently doing) before beginning at the University. Due to some logistical issues, my departure date was pushed back about a year, and so I knocked out my freshman year before leaving for training. In my two months in Great Lakes, Illinois I was extremely challenged. Limits were pushed, pain was felt, and tears were had. I was unprepared for the challenges ahead but, to quote a specific senator, “Nevertheless, [I] persisted.” In boot camp, we had many lectures, spanning from Navy history to lifestyle in the fleet, to finances. The one that was most jarring to me, however, a political science student, aspiring constitutional lawyer and politician, was the lesson on military service and our role in politics. A petty officer, clad in his NSU’s (a tan polo and black pants), with two full sleeves of tattoos and a mustache, now looking back, so burly it was likely out of regulations, paced up and down the aisles, “I don’t give a fuck what your political affiliations are. I don’t care if you like or hate the current president of the United States. I couldn’t care less about what you identify as or where you sit on any issue, you will not be involved in the political cycle in any way while you regularly wear a Navy uniform.”
I completely understood and appreciated his words. It’s with this that I would now like to explicitly say that nothing I write here, in any way, represents the United States Navy or the military as a whole. These are my own observations, stemming only from personal experience. I encourage not just people in uniform, but all peoples, to accept your fellow person and their thoughts and ideas and to engage in thoughtful discussion with opposing viewpoints whenever possible. With discussion, there may come unity, and with unity shall come progress. Either way, the words of this petty officer were, at the time, befuddling. I couldn’t imagine a world where I didn’t engage in political activity and discussion. For my time in training, however, I kept it low and swallowed my pride.
After graduating from Great Lakes, I, and about 30 of my fellow shipmates were transported to none other than San Antonio, Texas. It was there we would be receiving training to, in a few month’s time, become Hospital Corpsman and, officially, enter the Navy with a rate and our respective duty stations. On the bus to the airport, still on a sort of high after graduating from the most strenuous months of our lives, we discussed what we were excited for in Texas. People talked about the food, the riverwalk, just being able to play video games again, but one of my most pertinent thoughts were my hopes to see Beto speak. Of course, I said nothing of the subject, as to remain apolitical with my shipmates, and because, I’m sure, none of them would be sure of who he was (these were not the most politically aware bunch, though I do love them all).
Again, months pass and I’m feeling down. The monotony of A-school had become mind-numbing and I was questioning myself. ‘Was this the right decision? Will this ultimately benefit me? Am I just wasting time? Why do I care?’ Now that I’ve begun to drill regularly with my Navy Reserve unit, I can say wholeheartedly that I love being in the Navy and am prepared to do everything that I can to better the lives of our veterans and military families. It took months to reach this optimism, however. While in San Antonio, I felt distraught, separate from myself, and, plainly, confused. A few months in, I received an e-mail from the campaign, at what was likely the peak of my internal struggle, that Beto was to have an event in San Antonio on an upcoming weekend. I ignored the advice of that Great Lakes petty officer and decided to be true to myself. I went to that rally, not as a sailor, but as someone who cares.
I arrived at the church the rally was to be held in about an hour early. While there, I helped to set-up stands, chairs, and had the opportunity to meet the volunteers, some staff members, and individuals of the San Antonio area. When time, Moms Demand Action began the rally. They spoke of gun violence in America and how Texas’ legislation thus far had, truly, assisted in ending the lives of children, fathers, and mothers around the nation. Afterward, there was something of a 20-minute open mic where constituents were allowed to come to the stage and speak on behalf of their experiences with Texas politics, and how they believed Beto could transform the state, and nation, to a place of prospering. I believed their words and admiration as much as I believed those videos of Beto I had watched. It was in those 20 minutes that I came to the realization that he didn’t only speak for himself, or for Texas: he spoke for everyone.
After that brief impromptu section of the night, Beto finally arrived. He was fresh out from another rally he had put on at a neighboring city, still perspiring, still smiling widely. By his speech, I was mesmerized. He spoke of the danger that is the alt-right movement. He spoke of the humanity that we need to bring to modern America and our discourse. He tackled issues of immigration, violence, and education with poise and grace. The confidence in his rhetoric was inspiring and his vision of America put me to tears. I left early, as I had to be sure to make curfew (student-status with the Navy is anything but freeing), but I was determined to make sure to see him again and to get the opportunity to meet him at one point or another.
I left that night, finally, feeling like myself again. I felt known and understood and happy that the vision that I, and millions of other Americans, share is being represented by this candidate in such a sincere and professional manner.
Not but two months later, I graduated from A-School and finally came back home from my long 7-month hiatus. I had quite a while before I could return to my university, and, in that time, I was just wasting away. After about a month of doing nothing, still stirred by those months in training, and likely becoming something of a nuisance to my mom and brother, a position was found for me as a lead canvasser for the Kirsten Sinema campaign for senate. I worked with the campaign from October all the way up to election day, where she won by, not a landslide, but a significant amount (especially considering the political terrain of Arizona). It was not her I was worried about, however. Her victory, though triumphant and very, very important to the history of modern politics, didn’t resonate with me the same way that Beto’s campaign did. I felt a personal investment to his run for senate, far beyond those stickers I had bought at the beginning of the campaign, far beyond the time that I had spent discussing him, his policies, and his message online and with friends, far beyond any tangible thing. I felt represented, even though I was not from the state he ran for.
Beto had shown up, often unexpectedly, when I needed guidance or reminder in my personal mission. His words, though meant for crowds, felt personal and real. I found myself confiding with and inspired by him and, I think, I always will. His loss in the senate race, to me, is not a loss, it was a litmus test of the state of things. It was a longshot and was always going to be. The fact he came so close and had rallied so much support in a state like Texas is likely to be the political feat of the decade. Even still, I was sad and disappointed that there wasn’t going to be a Senator O’Rourke that election cycle.
I was, however, over the moon, months later, preparing to re-enter university life and finally full-swing in the Navy Reserves, when he announced his bid for presidency. I am still of the belief, even now that he’s dropped from the race, that he is the candidate we need. He’s willing to listen and sympathize but is unafraid of throwing the gauntlet down in opposition to those powers that are currently holding the country back from true progress, and have, really, begun regression.
Even I, an avid Beto supporter, found the beginning of his 2020 campaign to be lackluster. He had rallied support, met enough fundraising thresholds for months to come and was polling high. I think that he overthought his run and it wasn’t until the shooting in El Paso that he again found his voice.
I appreciated and admired his “Fuck it” phase. His intensity in calling for gun reform, racial and social equality, and bringing light to issues that no other candidate, even still, seems to want to talk about. Beto, in his truest form, shined brighter than any other candidate on any stage, behind any podium, or in front of any crowd. His policy proposals are fair, smart, and open to change as the American people see fit. I have no doubt in my mind that Beto’s life of public service is not over. Though I don’t know through what avenue he will go, I know that I will follow and support in any way that I can. He, his passion, and his sincerity deserve the American people’s ear, even if but for a moment. His presidential race has been one of the most impressive to date, regardless of the outcome. He used it as a vehicle to shed light on the unseen and give a microphone to the unheard. I’m disappointed that it wasn’t given more spotlight which was, instead, alotted to the same tropes and discussions that failed us in 2016. I keep faith, but fear America’s future.
This is why I’m, now, helping to begin to bring Mark Kelly’s senate campaign to Tucson. Even if the presidential race is as contentious and divisive as before, we may still win the senate, and expunge those members who fight for an unamerican agenda. Beto has already come out and said that he is prepared to support the democratic nomination for Senate in Texas, and I implore you to follow in his footsteps. If you can have a say in the local or state level of politics, then you can help to reform the political climate of today to better match the true needs and wants of Americans. Not a wall, but togetherness. Not private education for those with too many figures in their bank account, but a public education for all Americans, that is quality and will eventually garner a smarter, more productive, and happier America. Not secluding healthcare, too, to the rich, but allowing everyone a public option which, over time, will ensure that every American can receive high-quality medical care and that we will have the means to provide it. Not a country where we take into consideration people’s dangerous hobbies over the lives of children, but one where we take those weapons of war out of the hands of those who don’t, and will never, need them and, instead, offer a safer country for those who reside here. These are my beliefs, these are the beliefs of many Americans, these are the beliefs of Beto, and they will be the actions of tomorrow if you fight for it.
Fight, tooth and nail, for what you believe in, have your voice heard, and, even if not, “I’m so fucking proud of you guys.”
P.S. — I did eventually get to meet Beto. He came and gave a speech on our campus, I shook his hand, he told me to, “Keep fighting the good fight”, and here we are. Thank you, Beto. Keep fighting the good fight.
