I quickly skimmed the letter that accompanied it, saw that I was obligated to fill it out and responded in what I considered typical American fashion: I chucked it into my recycling bin.
(Actually, I’m not sure recycling qualifies as typical American behavior yet, but chucking certainly does.)
In any case, I tossed it and assumed I was done with it, which I was ... until another one arrived two weeks later. The second one contained stronger language, stating up front that I was bound by law to complete and return the survey. Apparently “Title 13 (of the U.S. Code, Sections 141 and 193), as changed by Title 18, imposes a penalty for not responding.” (I learned that from the FAQ section.) What sort of penalty, I’m not certain. A fine perhaps? Some sort of community service? A sentence involving, say, answering 217 questions about your household?
Whatever the consequence, being forced to complete a survey struck me as downright un-American. Isn’t the cornerstone of our democracy grounded as much in our right to participate in our government as it is in our right NOT to?
Call me paranoid, but the more I contemplated the Census, the more I became convinced that it was a ruse to implicate me in a terrorism plot simply because I’m more inclined to adorn my car with a bumper sticker that reads, “Bush: Like a Rock, Only Dumber,” than a magnetic, yellow “Support Our Troops” ribbon. It seemed certain that upon completing my survey, I would be just one sensory-deprived flight away from internment at a secret CIA prison in some country with an abysmal human rights record.
I mentioned my concerns to my friend, Kirk, who hesitated half a nanosecond before chastising me. “Are you kidding? The Census is one of the better things the U.S. government does,” he told me. “Do you know how many geographers are involved in that?” (Kirk is finishing up his Ph.D in geography and has great respect for — and knowledge of — the field.)
“Well obviously, if there are geographers involved,” I replied, “it must be noble.”
Kirk ignored my sarcasm and informed me that the information gathered through the Census could help bring more government funding to my marginalized neighborhood, and, among other things, determine where new schools, fire departments, policing and roads were necessary. I’d heard this before (and promptly forgotten it when I read about the non-response penalty), but hearing it from a friend who is typically as cynical about the government as I am made an impression.
So, I went home and looked at the survey again. The questions were relatively easy, though some of them required a bit of research (When was your house built? What was your total water/sewer bill over the last 12 months?), but I waded through them all, and it only took me 39 minutes (The Census Bureau estimated 38 — liars).
I hope my answers have an impact and help my neighborhood, my town or my state in some way (or at the very least keep a few noble geographers employed for another year). But most of all, I hope that my cooperation with the Department of Commerce will help to establish me as a responsible citizen so that no matter how entertained I am by Bush-bashing bumper stickers, I’ll never have to see the inside of Guantanamo Bay.
After all, I’m not anti-Bush; I’m pro-intelligence. (Just saw that one today ...)
Belinda Ray is a homeschooling mother and freelance writer who finds time to write when her children and their friends have lightsaber battles in the yoga room (but only if the laundry is already folded and everyone’s been fed).