Ah, Halloween. This annual excuse to consume gobs of chocolate, carve out or kick in pumpkins (depending on your inclination) and dress, well, let's say unusually, is one holiday that you might think that I couldn't politicize. Oh, the naivet‚ -- of course I can. This year for Halloween, I'm going as a Republican.
When I was growing up, costumes transformed children into firefighters, superheroes and all sorts of creatures that go bump in the night, often involving masks which did not match the eyes to eyeholes. Halloween then was a holiday of stumbling for entirely different reasons than it is here in college.
I've also noticed that at college, students (mostly but not exclusively female students) dress as characters that do more in the night than "go bump." Sure, some might argue that dressing as a less-than-fully-wholesome nurse/cowgirl/policewoman/Catholic schoolgirl/et cetera may demonstrate a lack of imagination. I'd counter, however, that what such costumes may lack in creative selection they more than make up for in creative tailoring. But then again, of course I'm going to defend such debauchery -- that's what we liberals do, right?
I'm not entirely sure how to dress as a Republican, but I plan on attaching a torn-up copy of the Bill of Rights to the soles of my shoes and stuffing wads of bills in my pockets. Well, fake money anyhow; after all, I'm not really a Republican. I also considered covering my hands in the blood of the innocent, but that's really taking it a bit too far.
In reality, I don't believe in personalizing politics and have friends of all political stripes. I'd rather parties disagree amicably than bitterly, and as such, I would encourage College Republicans to dress as Democrats this weekend. They can don tie-dyed shirts and carry around anti-war signs, or perhaps have fake blood dripping from their hearts while they distribute obscenity to passers-by, or whatever they think we liberals do.
Seriously, though, there are Republicans whom I respect and even admire; they just don't happen to reside in the White House at the moment. So no, I don't think that all Republicans are money-grubbing fat cats who snort coke bought with oversized tax cuts by the light of the Constitution burning in fireplaces over which hang their collection of rifles, grenade launchers and anti-personnel landmines. No, that's definitely not all Republicans; I'd say 10, maybe 15 percent tops.
As perhaps you can tell, for an addict like me, it can be difficult to not let politics dominate all aspects of life, even those that are quite clearly apolitical, such as Halloween. I credit my parents for this, because when I was growing up (and this is a true story) I was not allowed to trick or treat for candy but rather traipsed in my costume from door to door collecting donations for UNICEF. So clearly, I was not pretending to be a Republican, but you get my point. On the bright side, I've yet to have a cavity. Well, that, and I have saved more starving children than you, so there. But I digress.
Those of us for whom life in all of its minutia is saturated by partisanship are exactly those who need to take ourselves and our politics less seriously. Of course I don't think of Republicans in the way in which they are described above, and similarly, I'd hope that my conservative friends and colleagues don't really believe that liberals live our lives for the purpose of promoting moral decadence. Presenting such obviously ridiculous images does not promote those stereotypes but rather mocks them and that -- taking politics lightly -- is exactly the point.
There are few occasions better suited for this task than Halloween. By the magic of All Hallow's Eve, for one night out of every 365, the aberrant becomes normal, the normal aberrant and we can all step outside of ourselves to become that which we are not. Some people transform themselves into the demons that haunt their worst of dreams, while others dress in ways likely to give their mothers nightmares. Given my parents' political convictions, this year, I just might accomplish both.
So perhaps I do obsess over politics, and considering that voter turnout on this campus is less than 30 percent, that puts me in the minority. But no matter what you do with your free time, October 31 is a time to take it, and yourself, less seriously. There is a time and a place for everything, and it is called Spring Fling, but as far as the fall goes, Halloween is a close second.
To ground your beliefs by mocking them, to confront your fears by becoming them -- these are not reasons why Halloween first started, but they're damn good reasons for keeping the tradition alive. So therefore, tonight I will not be a demon or a ghost with misaligned eyeholes, and most definitely not a Catholic schoolgirl. I will be something far, far scarier: a Republican.
Kevin Collins is a sophomore Political Science major from Milwaukee, Wis.
