In 2016, when some of my friends told me they weren't going to vote in the federal election, I was aghast. How could they not? I was so keen to get voting that the night before the election, I made a Word document to practise the order of my preferences and memorised it.
Fast forward to last week, when I had a slight panic on the train because I couldn't remember which Saturday the election was held on and feared I had accidentally missed it.
Australian politics can be brutal and the past three years were no exception. We've had more dehumanising voting campaigns, more sex abuse coming to light, more climate inaction and somehow yet another prime minister.
I know we've just had a month of election campaigning, but if you asked me to talk about specific campaign events, I would struggle a bit. This election cycle seems to me like an endless blur of Clive Palmer ads and social media scandals. I know the gist of the major policy proposals, but if I'm being honest, I overwhelmingly found myself tuning out.
In 2016, I was indignant at Bernie Finn's anti-trans and homophobic comments and the toxic debate surrounding Safe Schools. When I recently read that Scott Morrison was questioned on whether he believed gay people were going to hell and he gave a noncommittal answer (which he later revised), I thought of a John Mulaney quote from his comedy special New In Town: 'This might as well happen.' As a queer woman raised Catholic, I could explain how re-traumatising this type of commentary is to me, but I know that this is just another part of the continuing acceptance of public debates on the humanity of LGBTQ+ people; gay people going to hell can be framed as a legitimate political discourse now.
And while I'm glad that action to address climate change has come back the political forefront, I find it hard to read or hear about it without feeling a sense of hopeless climate anxiety. I recently read a statement from the UN where the speakers remind the audience we only have 11 years to prevent irreversible damage from climate change.
I can't help but do the maths. How many election cycles is that? What age will I be then? What about my younger cousins? With the limited amount of time we have, it's demoralising to hear the Coalition's so-called 'war on the weekend' and for Labor politicians to promise bold action on emissions but not commit to stopping the Adani mine.
"Politicians will inevitably disappoint us and political discourse only seems to be getting worse. But I still won't disconnect, even though sometimes I really want to."
Three years ago, in my first article for Eureka Street, I wrote about my experiences as a first-time voter. For months I researched and read and thought about Australian pre-election politics. It's twee, but I really felt the heaviness of democracy on my 18-year-old shoulders.
When I think about the current election however, I feel a lack of enthusiasm for voting that may stem from crushing experience, the general uninspired feel of these campaigns, or a combination of both.
One of the worst and best things about being a writer is that you're always writing from the now, developing your thoughts and opinions publicly. Some things I wrote years ago, I would write differently — or not at all — now. But as I read over the hopeful words of that earlier article, I'm reminded of my excitement to be part of the political process and my refusal to let cynicism take over.
In the closing paragraph, I said that 'I know that I can't afford to disconnect; if for nothing else, I need to vote for the people who can't.' This has always been true. Even though I sometimes forget it, I'm reminded by the words of the children who march at the School Strikes for Climate, and by Behrouz Boochani's recent piece on this election being an opportunity to vote for freedom and to 'fight indifference'.
The promise I made three years ago to stay engaged is much harder to keep than I knew at the time, but it is still worth upholding. Politicians will inevitably disappoint us and political discourse only seems to be getting worse. But I still won't disconnect, even though sometimes I really want to.
I will vote on Saturday, and on the rest of the election Saturdays. Perhaps not with the enthusiasm of a first-timer, but still with the memory of being that hopeful fresh in my mind.
Neve Mahoney is a student at RMIT university. She has also contributed to Australian Catholics and The Big Issue.
Main image: Labor leader Bill Shorten and Prime Minister Scott Morrison take part in the Leaders' Debate at the National Press Club on 8 May 2019. (Photo by Liam Kidston/News Corp Australia via Getty Images)