Michelle Dubert: Confessions of a Penn conservative

Along with many others at Penn, I probably devoted too much time this week browsing through thefacebook.com. As I was amending my user profile, I gave the "political views" category some serious thought. I had "conservative" listed already, but should I just leave it blank instead? Is it really anyone's business?

That thought quickly evaporated -- each Monday, I have faithfully used this space to make my political views every reader's business. "Conservative" prevailed. But later when I scanned my friends' profiles, I noticed that I was in the minority: Unlike me, most of them are liberal.

Not that this is any great epiphany. And not that this is the first time I have felt outnumbered, or a bit diminutive, 'because of my views on this campus. But it did provide another occasion for me to reflect on what it's actually like to be (a relatively outspoken) conservative at a liberal, Ivy League institution.

This isn't a diatribe, or even a complaint, really. My aim is not to grumble about political correctness or the stranglehold liberal ideology seems to have on academia. I don't feel shortchanged; as passionate as I am, I'm not hostile.

Holding a minority viewpoint is without a doubt a unique experience. At least maybe the first time it happens. In high school, the conservative constituency was even slimmer than Penn's. I'm from a New York City suburb in New Jersey, and while the state as a whole is now solidly Democratic, my area has a sizeable Republican population. However, that sentiment was not reflected in my high school. I inevitably designated myself the token conservative and spoke out unashamedly. Debates flared spontaneously; I held my own, and my classmates listened and reconsidered.

And I loved every minute of it; in fact, I thrived on it.

Before coming here, my family tried to warn me; my dad, sharing my views and eager for me to defend them, told me to be outspoken before the right crowd -- anybody except those with the authority to affect my grades. My mother feared ostracism by the entire Penn community. In fact, she even tried discouraging me from applying for this column.

At first it was hard for her to watch her youngest, her five-foot-one Jewish daughter, lower her head and charge a figuratively snarling, ruthless opponent; I was messing with the big boys now, and I went right for the knees.

Perhaps, then, I shouldn't divulge what actually occurs when our politics are exposed: Known conservatives are hunted down by seething, scary liberals in the middle of the night; their rooms are looted and burglarized; their valuable possessions destroyed. Perpetrators are subsequently brought before the administration and Career Services, where they will be blacklisted from classes and potential jobs, their futures macerated.

Just kidding.

It isn't that bad. Sure, there is a lot of liberalism here -- that much is obvious. It's manifested in virtually every professor and teaching assistant I've had -- something particularly noticeable to me, since I chiefly take courses that allow room for editorializing: history, communications and political science. It doesn't bother me that I'm typically the only conservative in every recitation (except for one this semester: Thanks, Eric), and I often have an entire table of students challenging me in class.

I'm not embittered when I wander down the Walk and see countless liberal causes garnering support, but no conservative ones. There are no dirty looks exchanged when I see my adversaries in passing. I don't mind, because when it comes down to it, I'm not just volunteering for this experience. I'm willingly paying for it; I could have gone elsewhere for my education. I haven't been here as long as more notorious conservatives, but it doesn't bother me. Besides, it keeps me on my toes.

Being a conservative, or at least fiscally conservative and socially libertarian, is not a stigma. Even here, it doesn't carry a connotation quite like "communist," "fascist" or "sadist" might. Conservatives have popped up in the most unlikely of places, too, ranging from my sorority, my hallmates, to even The Daily Pennsylvanian (though they shall all remain nameless).

But while I don't feel attacked for my views, I don't exactly feel encouraged to express them. And I don't think I'm the only one. For example, at a sorority event a couple months back, someone asked me why I enjoyed writing this column. I offered as one reason that I liked expressing a perspective that wasn't actively represented in Penn's mainstream media. Moments after our group dissolved, one of the girls approached me and asked quietly if I was a Republican. I nodded, and she seemed relieved to finally find another. Without provocation, several more confronted me that evening and confessed the same thing.

Admitting a conservative philosophy shouldn't be so traumatizing. We don't conduct s‚ances, we don't have rituals, and believe it or not, we're more than the obligatory evil capitalists of the community. Conformity grows dull after a while. There's no shame in disagreeing.

Michelle Dubert is a College freshman from Closter, N.J. Department of Strategery appears on Mondays.

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