An ad came on the television. The deep bass voiceover complemented the ominous horror-movie music. I turned to my mother, smiling. 'Hey Mum, this is my first campaign ad for an election where I'm actually allowed to vote!'
The election campaign began, for me at least, with my social medias begging me to vote. Or maybe a little earlier, when I anxiously read articles about proposed changes to HECs and Safe Schools.
If the stereotype about young people, enrolled or not, is their lack of engagement, then this election has certainly changed that luxury. And of course, it is privilege that allows us to disengage.
This is hammered home when Cory Bernadi tweets the 'neo-masculinist' Dayrush 'Roosh' Valizadeh, who has published an article entitled 'Feminists are successfully creating a society of shameless sluts', and stated that women are 'simply [created] to reproduce'.
It's hammered home when Bernie Finn follows homophobia with Nazi jokes; again when arts funding is slashed. And of course, casting shadow over it all, is the blithe refusal of our major parties to recognise the humanity of refugees in Nauru and Manus Island.
Last year I was doing my VCE, so honestly, I was more aware of revolutionary Russia than about the #LibSpill. (Though I suppose it may come in handy if things really go south.) But now you could say I've got skin in the game. As a university student, as someone who wants to work in publishing, as a queer woman, this federal election made me someone who's invested.
So by the time the May deadline ticked over, I was one of the 71 per cent of 18-year-olds who had enrolled to vote. I sat in smug satisfaction until I realised, Oh, now it's time to do all the work.
Thus began my quest against stereotype. I would be a 'proactive citizen', whereby trying to keep up with this campaign is part wading against the tide of information and part not getting distracted by America's sideshow. (Trump. Really?)
"If Buzzfeed could tell that I'm a Miranda, then surely Vote Compass could tell me how I 'fit into the political landscape'."
I started simple. Google search: 'Australian Elections 2016'. The results? Mostly whatever embarrassing thing a politician said that day.
I tried a different tact. I went straight to the source: the official websites of each major party. To my surprise, although in interviews politicians are so opaque that it's more prophecy than policy, their websites are in plain English.
Then I started to really read it. Liberal Issue Nine: Protecting Our Borders. 'Australia is one of the three most generous nations when it comes to permanently resettling refugees.' What? That couldn't possibly be true. Well, after an hour or so of research, the best I could tell was that it was true of last year, but probably not anymore. Ah, politicians, so open and honest.
I switched to Labor's website. Already Labor's link to 'Positive Policies' felt pretty suspect. What's with the alliterative modifier Bill? What are you trying to hide? I closed the tab. I just didn't have the energy.
Later, at dinner, when I was talking to my mother about the elections, she told me to take all the pamphlets at the polling place ('So they don't know who you're voting for'). My brother warned me that the sausage sizzle was always disappointing. On TV, the news crossed to two white guys to debate the Labor and Liberal economic policies. 'They're all the same,' my mother said, changing the channel.
Eventually, I was desperate. Only partly joking I typed: 'Who should I vote for?' I clicked on votecompass.com, because if Buzzfeed could tell that I'm a Miranda, then surely Vote Compass could tell me how I 'fit into the political landscape'. I launched it, and after a few tries of it telling me that my postcode didn't exist (who am I, Mr. Tumnus?) I got some graphs telling me about my political leanings and comparing the stances of major parties. Nifty.
Has Operation Proactive Citizen worked? I think so. Honestly, I could talk all day about how growing up with Rudd/Gillard/Rudd followed by Abbott/Turnbull turned a generation away from politics. I could talk even longer about how seeing (mostly) white, (mostly) male politicians is its own form of alienation. But if I'm going to be the possible swing vote, the homogenous 'youth vote', I'm going to make it count. I know that I can't afford to disconnect; if for nothing else, I need to vote for the people who can't. Australian politics is discouraging, confusing and a lot of the time just plain weird, but in the end, I want, without hypocrisy, to be able to complain about sausage sizzles and politics with the best of them.
Neve Mahoney is a student at RMIT university. She has also contributed to Australian Catholics and The Big Issue.
Original artwork by Chris Johnston