Sign {Language}: How Our Lawns Got Political

Confession: I paid little mind to politics for the first half of my life, including some key eligible-to-vote years. It was only in law school, during the Clinton impeachment hearings, that government become more than esoteric background noise, thanks to a zealous Constitutional Law professor.

I grew up with the adage that it’s impolite to discuss religion and politics.

The closest I came to a political discussion as a kid was on Sundays when we had early dinners with my grandparents at their favorite cafeteria. The framed headshot of every president hung at eye level, in chronological order, for patrons’ viewing pleasure as we plodded through line to get a beige food tray. My grandmother made the same faint harrumph as we passed Jimmy Carter. I never asked; she never explained.

Another adage I remember from childhood is “don’t judge a book by its cover.” Well folks, I suck at following that one too—I love to talk politics (and religion), and I’ve grown increasingly comfortable with judging folks by the cover of their… yard sign.

After four years in this house, I still haven’t met many neighbors.

We’re all busy; it’s not personal. Or at least it wasn’t before we started putting election signs in our front yards. In recent days, we’ve become a street divided by red and blue, him and her, them and us. And as a member of “us,” I know all I need to know about every one of “them.”

At least that’s how it feels. But deep down, I know that’s not true.

Because how could a 20 x 24 sliver of cardboard kill off my long-standing desire to finally go meet the old guy at the end of the street, who clearly lives alone and can’t manage to bring his newspaper in some mornings? How can I not invite the nice family, who keeps rescuing our run-away mutt, for that overdue “welcome to the neighborhood” drink just because they’re clearly voting the other way in November?

Because I’ve lost a bit of my humanity, that’s how.

I can only see the vote, not the voter.

I’m not happy about it. It’s gross. I’m gross. And I assume people are doing the exact same thing when they drive past my house.

So, why do we put these out? It’s not to convince anyone to vote a certain way. Seriously, is anyone deluded into thinking an undecided voter will be swayed by a yard sign? Is your fall porch pumpkin display so magnificent as to compel a passerby to vote for your candidate? We aren’t actually doing anything to impact the election by advertising our vote. We’re just signaling our willingness to be identified in the broadest, nuance-free terms possible.

Because the signs are binary.

Red or blue. Him or her. Right or left. And yet, we live in a day and time where narrow, monolithic categories are bad. We can hardly be adequately identified by a single word.
Woman.
Partner.
Mother.

I may use such words to describe myself, but without more definition, you still can’t assume to know anything about me.
CIS woman.
Domestic hetero partner.
Biological mother.

Now we’re getting somewhere. So, what can you really know about me from my political yard sign beyond how I will cast my vote? You think you know how I feel about abortion, taxes, immigration, or national security? What about school choice, the Second Amendment, the death penalty, or federal court appointments? I’m not sure where my candidate stands on all of these. In truth, I’m not sure where I stand on all of them. I just know I feel very strongly about a few things, and that’s all it takes to decide. But it’s a recipe for poor neighbor relations.

Maybe it would be more humane if yard signs gave more information, like the degree to which someone was committed to their candidate.

Picture a Trump sign with a green leaf emblazoned in the corner. I’d know that neighbor may vote for Trump but cares about the environment. Or a Harris sign with a dollar symbol that’s crossed out. I’d know that neighbor may vote for Harris but feels that the wealthy are already paying enough in taxes. It would be the political yard sign equivalent of “yes, but.”

Maybe in four years, because it’s too late to change things now. And truthfully, in this particular election season, perhaps the signs in our yard say less about what we stand for, and everything about what we stand against.