Dearest Gentle Readers,
It has come to this writer’s attention that one of the most popular phrases in our community—right up there with “bless your heart” and “I’ll pray on it”—is this little gem: “I’m not political.” It is usually said gently, sometimes defensively, often right before launching into a very passionate opinion about schools, gas prices, crime, taxes, or “what this country is coming to.” And every time, it makes me smile. Not because it’s silly. Because it’s impossible.
Darling, “not political” is not a setting you can toggle off like notifications on your phone. It is a luxury, and one that only exists when the system is working well enough for you personally that you don’t feel its weight. The moment you care about your kids, your job, your health, your bills, your safety, or your neighbors, you are already in it. You are already part of the story. You just don’t like the label.
Politics follows you. It follows you into the doctor’s office and the classroom and the grocery store aisle. It shows up in your paycheck and your rent and your electric bill. It sits quietly in your child’s textbook and loudly in your social media feed. You can ignore it, but it will never ignore you back.
And here is the raw truth we don’t say out loud enough: saying “I’m not political” does not mean you are neutral. It means someone else gets to decide for you. It means the loudest voices get the final word while you stand politely to the side and hope things work out. History has never rewarded that strategy.
At Indivisible Uwharrie, we didn’t show up because we love conflict. We showed up because we love this place. Because we love our neighbors. Because we love our kids. Because we love the idea that regular people in small towns deserve a real say in what happens to their lives. Caring about that is not being “too political.” It is being responsible.
You don’t have to protest. You don’t have to argue online. You don’t have to memorize policy. You just have to stop pretending this doesn’t affect you. You just have to vote. Pay attention. Ask questions. Speak up when something feels wrong. Stay when it would be easier to walk away.
You belong in this conversation. Your voice matters. Your choices matter. Your silence matters too.
So the next time you’re tempted to say, “I’m not political,” maybe try this instead: “I care about my community, and I’m learning how to show it.”
That, dear reader, is more than enough to start.
With love, honesty, and a stack of voter guides nearby,
