So comrades, come rally
And the last fight let us face
The Internationale unites the human race.


I was one of the only people in class today who knew what the Internationale was when Marc played it for us. Or at least, one of the only who would admit to it. I was miss labor movement, which I found amusing. I know that not everyone was raised the way that I was, around the people I was around, but sometimes I forget to what extent my experience was different from many of the people I've met at college.

I was taught labor songs growing up, and my parents raised me to believe that I could question authority, that I shouldn't believe most of what people tell me (at least not without thinking it through carefully first), and that perhaps the American system wasn't the only or even best system possible. That's not to say that I was raised by communists, but my mother found her heros in many different places, and though she gets more conservative as she gets older, I never worried that she would be shocked by my political beliefs. She introduced me to Dorothy Day and Emma Goldman and raised me as a feminist before even a Catholic. Sometimes I forget that she's somewhat unusual in that regard. Thanks mom.
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