When I was a senior in high school, I ran over a raccoon on a dark, rural road in Vermont. I was driving too fast, carving my way through corners on a twisty road from my house to town. The trees were whipping past, as my crappy little Subaru dipped and rose through the s-curves and roller-coaster hills. Just after I crested a hill and started down, I saw a raccoon and almost immediately heard the thump as its body was crushed by my bumper. In my rear view mirror I saw the raccoon tumbling and twisting across the road.
I pulled over and turned around, using my headlights to illuminate the road until I saw the raccoon clawing at the yellow center-line. The back half of the raccoon was still and lifeless, and its intestines were slipping out of its belly. It was clawing the pavement, trying to pull itself to the side. It was shrieking.
I pulled over, letting my headlights light the road. I got a tire iron out of the wheel well. As I walked to the dying raccoon, I could see it looking at me with pain and fear. This was an animal used to running, used to hiding under porches. But it couldn't run, and the only thing it felt was the burning of its wounds and broken body. I struck its head with the tire iron. It took several swings to silence it. Using the tire iron as a lever, I threw its body off the road into the bushes.
I am not proud of what I did, though I am not embarrassed either. I did what was necessary. I relieved the raccoon's pain. In the months that followed, I often dreamt of the raccoon shrieking and clawing. While I regret that I ran over the raccoon, I have never regretted putting it out of its misery once I had. It was the right thing to do--it was my responsibility to do--however much it pained me to do it, however much I remember the sound of its skull being crushed by steel. It was the lesser of two evils, it was a kindness.
I don't talk much about killing the raccoon, its not like its a good party conversation. But the few times I have, many of my friends say they never could have done it, some have even been horrified by what I did. I've never challenged these people, never asked them why they would keep driving? How could they leave an animal to die in pain, and consider themselves good people? When folks tell me they couldn't do it, or wouldn't do it, I let it go.
I mention killing the raccoon now only because it is, to me, very much the basis of who I am, my ethical core. That core is very simple.
Help those less fortunate, even when it is inconvenient, even when it is hard, or brutal, or when all options are bad. My morality is not about feeling proud about myself, or happy with all my actions...its about making the ugly choices.
These are precisely the issues that come up when I vote. In my life, I have only been happy to vote for two people (Bernie Sanders and Raul Grijalva) at the national level. Every other vote has been an ugly choice. Each time I have voted I have heard steel crushing a raccoon's skull. I have made some right choices, and I have made some wrong ones. That's not the point. Each time I have voted I have made my choice not on what feels good, but rather what is best for those less fortunate than me. I have voted for truly repugnant people, feeling no joy in it, recognizing only that the other choices were worse.
My point here is simple, if you cannot vote for the lesser of two evils, you are equivalent those friends who could not kill the raccoon, or were even horrified by the thought. Voting specifically, and life in general, is not about self-affirmation and feeling good all the fucking time. Its about making hard choices, its about facing the ugliness and trying to make it less ugly.
To be clear, I am not arguing that everyone must vote for the democrats. I usually choose to do so, but that is not the lesson I drew from killing the raccoon. The lesson is far simpler. Don't just drive on. Make the hard call. In voting that might mean voting and working for a blue dog democrat to avoid getting a worse republican, or it might mean voting and advocating for a 3rd party candidate who will not only lose, but increase the chances for some truly shit-awful republican winning. I have done both of those at different times. Sometimes right, sometimes wrong. I made ugly choices, I didn't pretend they were easy, and some of them, even the ones where I am sure I was right, haunt me to this day.
Voting is like killing a half-dead raccoon with a tire iron, to be a moral person you must do it. Fighting for justice is like killing a half-dead raccoon with a tire iron, to be a moral person you must do it. Life is like killing a half-dead raccoon with a tire iron, to be a moral person you must do it. The right thing is not always the same as the thing that makes you feel good. Morality is hard, and its often ugly.
Driving on--when you are able to turn around--is the choice of moral cowards, not voting--when you are able--is the same.