
My mom was very disappointed when I came out as a Republican in
My mom was very disappointed when I came out as a Republican in high school. And being a Republican in high school was really fun because all of my teachers were extremely liberal. Expressing anything that was counter to their deeply held beliefs was so easily unsettling that that form of contrarianism was very comfortable.






“My mom was very disappointed when I came out as a Republican in high school. And being a Republican in high school was really fun because all of my teachers were extremely liberal. Expressing anything that was counter to their deeply held beliefs was so easily unsettling that that form of contrarianism was very comfortable.” — Lisa Kennedy Montgomery
In this witty yet revealing reflection, Lisa Kennedy Montgomery speaks not only of politics, but of the eternal dance between individuality and conformity. Beneath her humor lies a profound statement about the nature of conviction — the human need to stand apart, to question what others accept without thought. When she says, “My mom was very disappointed when I came out as a Republican in high school,” she is not merely recalling a family disagreement; she is describing a moment of awakening — the birth of independent thought. To the ancients, such defiance was not rebellion for its own sake, but the forging of identity. For every philosopher, every seeker of truth, must one day step beyond the comfort of agreement and dare to think for themselves.
The mother’s disappointment, though rooted in love, symbolizes society’s unease with dissent. The ancients knew that no bond is stronger, nor more challenging, than that between parent and child — for one generation shapes the other, yet must also let it grow beyond its own reflection. Kennedy’s mother represents the old order, the established beliefs; her daughter, the spirit of inquiry. Their conflict, though political on the surface, is in truth philosophical: the moment when one must choose whether to inherit belief or to test it. In every age, this struggle repeats — between tradition and discovery, between obedience and freedom.
When Kennedy recalls that “being a Republican in high school was really fun because all of my teachers were extremely liberal,” she reveals something the ancients would have called the pleasure of contrarianism — the joy of resistance, the spark that ignites when one’s thoughts strike against the flint of opposition. This is the same fire that burned in Socrates, who questioned the norms of Athens, or in Galileo, who dared to contradict the dogmas of his time. To speak against the tide is not easy; yet for the spirited soul, it is exhilarating. For truth is not born in echo chambers but in the clash of minds.
Her words — “Expressing anything that was counter to their deeply held beliefs was so easily unsettling” — remind us how fragile certainty can be. The ancients taught that ideas untested by challenge grow weak, like steel never tempered by flame. The teachers in her story, though intelligent, had grown too comfortable in their convictions, and thus even a young student’s disagreement could shake them. Kennedy’s observation is not cruelty, but revelation: that the freedom to question is sacred, and those who fear it have already surrendered a part of their wisdom. True strength of mind welcomes dissent, for it sharpens the intellect as the whetstone sharpens the blade.
And when she concludes, “that form of contrarianism was very comfortable,” she speaks of a paradox — that the rebel often finds peace in dissonance. To the ancients, this was the mark of a philosopher-warrior: one who stands in truth even when surrounded by doubt. For there is a strange serenity in knowing one’s beliefs are not inherited, but earned. Kennedy, through her youthful defiance, found comfort not in agreement but in authenticity. It is a lesson that transcends politics — for the goal is not to be Republican or liberal, but to be awake, thoughtful, and free.
Consider Diogenes of Sinope, the ancient cynic who lived in a barrel and mocked the powerful of Athens. When Alexander the Great came to visit him and asked, “What can I do for you?” Diogenes replied, “Stand out of my sunlight.” In that moment, he embodied the spirit Kennedy describes — the courage to stand apart from the mighty and the multitude alike. For the soul that seeks truth must sometimes appear foolish, or even disrespectful, to those who cannot bear their certainty disturbed. But Diogenes was free, as Kennedy too was free, in that sacred defiance.
Let this, then, be the lesson for all who listen: Do not fear to question, nor shrink from standing alone. Whether in school, in family, or in society, there will always be those who mistake agreement for virtue. But the ancients remind us that the greatest minds — from Socrates to Hypatia, from Galileo to Gandhi — were all once considered contrarians. The measure of wisdom is not in conformity, but in the courage to seek truth even when it isolates you.
And so, to the young and the bold, remember Lisa Kennedy Montgomery’s laughter in defiance — not as mockery, but as a song of freedom. Stand firm in your questioning, yet do so with respect and clarity. Speak not to wound, but to awaken. For when you can express your beliefs calmly amid the storm of others’ certainties, you have achieved what the ancients called ataraxia — the peace of the unshaken soul.
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