I was born in the 50th state, but since then I’ve spent much of my spare time trying to visit the other 49. After a 3,734-mile summer road trip visiting the final four states on my list – South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and North Dakota – I can finally proclaim that I’ve been to every one of the United States of America.
This summer’s trip was a journey through four of the “reddest” states in the union. Just as when I visited San Francisco, California or went to college around Boston, Massachusetts, there were lots of stereotypes running through my head as to what it would be like.
Yet to my surprise, outside the Muzzleloader Powderhorn Lounge in Montana, there was a giant sign saying “Love is Love” with a transgender pride flag in the background. I encountered a huge “Black Lives Matter” banner a block away from the oldest Mormon Temple in Idaho. I bought some souvenirs from a woman wearing a hijab in South Dakota. At a historical site in North Dakota, one of the docents had rainbow stripes in her hair and a Human Rights Campaign equality pin on her shirt.
Clearly some of my experiences were incongruous with my preconceived notion of who lives in conservative places. Yet when I think back to other recent trips, the same inconsistency held true for bastions of liberalism.
While sitting on a sidewalk café in Madison, I watched a guy with a “Make America Great Again” hat walk into a CBD store. In downtown Chicago, I saw an “America First” flag proudly displayed in a souvenir shop.
When we refer to distant “red” or “blue” states, we consider them homogenous places where everyone holds precisely the same set of values and political beliefs. Yet I have encountered people with so-called “liberal” values in the reddest places and those with “conservative” beliefs in the bluest communities. While the percentages of liberals-to-conservatives dramatically shifts from one region to another, the full spectrum of ideological diversity is on display everywhere in our country. This means when we demonize those on the other side of the political aisle, we aren’t just dehumanizing people far away, we’re also attacking folks who live right down the road from us. We’re degrading our neighbors who love our community just as much as we do.
Consider that women with the rainbow hair and equality pin I encountered in North Dakota, a person who clearly holds some stereotypically “liberal” beliefs. She enthusiastically talked of the region’s history and proudly loves living there. I’m also sure that somewhere else in our country there is a so-called “conservative” docent equally singing the praises of life in their “blue” state.
Most of us love the place we call home, regardless of whether our personal political views perfectly align with the majority around us. That’s because we as Americans have far more in common than the politicians and pundits would have us believe.
For all the political signs, flags and emblems that we encountered on our travels, by far the most common thing we saw was absolutely no sign at all. It’s true of life here in Door County as well. While it’s hard to miss those few houses with a mass of red or blue signs, what we often neglect to see is that the vast majority of lawns have no sign at all.
Despite what we’re told by Fox News and MSNBC, the overwhelming majority of us don’t define our identity by our political positions. This is not to say policy differences are unimportant or that ideology is irrelevant, it’s that for most folks, love of our family and commitment to our community are far more central to our being.
I’ve always believed that if you’re taking care of your family and helping take care of your community, then you’re doing your part to take care of our country. That’s what makes a person a good American. We will inevitably disagree on whether one particular policy is better than another, but that’s to be expected. It’s hard enough for my wife and I to agree on what we’re having for dinner tonight so why would I expect and insist that someone across town share exactly the same political views as I do. Yet only when I acknowledge that the other fellow loves his family as much as I love mine, and that he loves Door County the same as I do, can we finally work together to help our community thrive.
This column originally appeared in the Peninsula Pulse on August 1, 2024.
Bicoy Philanthropic Advisors 