A relatively infrequent, but apparently mandatory part of being an American student at Cambridge involves answering various questions about the U.S. The accent invites questions. The size of fast food meals, the mysterious art of tipping, something someone heard one time about American football. Anecdotes of every shape and size about owning guns, fraternities, American’s suing each other, the television show Friends. Hyperbole reigns. It is in this context that, inevitably, politics comes up.

I remember living in England during the Bush administration. Tackling the labyrinthine issues of the American political system required a practiced jocularity. W. The letter conjured up opinions on drawls, the relative importance of clearing brush on ranch property, grammatical mistakes both endearing and unsettling. The collective intelligence and literacy level of the American populace was an acceptable topic up for debate. Having a sense of humor seemed vaguely important, self-depreciation (in a collective sense) socially rewarding. The urge to caricature is irresistible, and, after Bush, it seemed that navigating introductory social situations in England might just get a bit less novel.

Obamania was in, Texas was out. Sure, the feel good notions of hope, idealism, and university-aged interns winning an election with clipboards and social media strategies was easy for my more cynical British friends to poke fun at; overall, however, it felt good not to be poking fun at American politicians. Enter Sarah Palin, aka “Momma Grizzly” and her Tea Party cohorts.

There were self-styled “mavericks” that did things like “going rogue” and “restoring honor.”  Rush Limbaugh called the President a racist. After the election, the Palin whirlwind of carnival continued. I was vaguely aware that she quit her governorship midterm, embarked on a media-hyped book tour, and made a lot of money. Slavoj Žižek was paying a bit more attention. In his recent book Living in the End Times he describes Palin.

She has a "castrating" effect on her male opponents not by way of being more manly than them, but by using the ultimate feminine weapon, the sarcastic put-down of male authority -- she knows that male "phallic" authority is a posture, a semblance to be exploited and mocked.

Whether Palin knows that ‘male “phallic” authority is a posture,’ may or may not be true, but she was larger than life, a cartoonish figure welcoming any and all media attention. So while returning to the U.S. from abroad (read: not England) for this past summer, I had heard much and seen little of this so-called Tea Party that was generating so many embarrassing headlines.

My personal experience of the Tea Party had been somewhat minimal. I have relatives in Arkansas who might be Tea Party sympathizers. My Mamaw (what a grandson calls his grandmother in Arkansas lingo) unconsciously echoing Žižek, informed my mother that, “Sarah Palin just looks so good on TV!  She doesn’t let the men push her around.” Otherwise, I’d had precious little interaction with Tea Partiers.

This was before Glenn Beck and the “Restoring America’s Honor” march on Washington. I was blissfully innocent riding the D.C. metro that fateful afternoon. At the Smithsonian stop mobs of red, white, and blue wearing, stroller pushing, fanny-pack toting tourists boarded the train. They had shirts with inspirational quotes about honor and freedom. It was the Tea Party, up close and personal. They had pictures of America’s founding fathers on their t-shirts, jackets, and hats. One woman was repeatedly lecturing her two children (there were lots of children), both of whom seemed to have been named after deceased Presidents (“Jackson! Give that back to Madison right now!”). They crowds gradually dispersed as the metro made its routine stops, and I got off while many of them were still aboard. Does familiarity breed contempt?

I find it unlikely that I will ever agree with Tea Party political doctrine.  The particular Glenn Beck march on Washington coincided with the 47th anniversary of MLK Jr.’s famous “I have a dream” speech, which many, including myself, found to be in poor taste. I find their particular right-wing blend of nationalism, Christian evangelism, and nostalgia for simpler times to be severely misguided.  However, what I will remember about my brief interaction with the Tea Party was their civility. They were normal tourists taking time while in D.C. to visit the Smithsonian museums. They spoke to each other politely and patriotically.
Arriving in Cambridge, I’ve met many people who have smirking questions about the Tea Party. This time around I think I’ll be slower to satirize; perhaps I’m a tad more conscious of their individualities and a little less interested in caricature, even when it is so inviting.