Redifining “Weird”
A Personal and Political Perspective
When I first heard about Democrats calling Republicans “weird” as a political strategy, I had a visceral reaction. For most of my life, I’ve worn the label of “weird” as a badge of honor. As an only child, a reader, and a quiet girl, I grew up feeling like an outsider. As an adult, “Quirky” became my armor.
I’m weird. So what? I like being different!
So, when this new political tactic emerged, I felt conflicted. On one hand, it was amusing to see the tables turned on a party that often paints itself as the bastion of normalcy. On the other hand, I didn’t want to identify with the Republican party any more than they wanted to identify with me — a childless woman who loves cats (despite having dogs.)
For 35 years, I had tried to fit into society’s narrow definition of “normal.” I met a boy, got married, and proceeded to live happily ever after. We had a garden, kept chickens in the backyard, I baked, cooked, and tried my best to keep a clean house.
It was like Trad-Wife lite, prior to the rise of social media, when Facebook was for college students. And I had a job.
Turns out, suppressing your inner self is exhausting. By the time I hit my late 30s, I decided to embrace authenticity and damn the consequences.
A funny thing happened: the more I opened up about my experiences, the more I realized I wasn’t alone. My “weirdness” resonated with others who had similar stories, similar struggles.
Hearing Tim Walz call Republicans “weird” got me thinking: What if we, the so-called “weird” ones, are actually more normal than we think?
What if it’s those who cling to a rigid, exclusionary vision of America — like many in the Republican party — who are truly out of step with the rich tapestry of American life?
Consider the irony: a political party that claims to represent “real America” is now being labeled as strange and out of touch.
Maybe there’s truth in that characterization. After all, isn’t it a bit weird to obsess over drag queen story hours or to suggest stripping voting rights from the childless? Isn’t it odd to try to ban books in an age of boundless information?
Perhaps what we’re seeing is a long-overdue recalibration of what “normal” means in America.
Normal is diverse. Normal is complex. Normal includes the quiet bookworms, the childless by choice, the cat ladies (and dog ladies), and countless others who don’t fit into a 1950s sitcom vision of society.
In embracing this new definition of normal, we create space for authenticity — both in our personal lives and in our politics. We challenge the notion that there’s only one right way to be American.
We recognize that our differences are not just tolerable, but valuable.
So yes, maybe I am a little weird. Maybe you are too.
But in a country as vast and varied as ours, isn’t that actually… normal?
