When I was 7 years old and the 2004 election was in full swing, I tried to punch a girl in the face for insulting John Kerry. I still had trouble pronouncing the word “Republican," but my mother had taught me enough about their views that even in third grade, I disagreed vehemently. Aside from a brief pro-life phase when I was thirteen, my political opinions have remained completely in line with the values of the Democratic Party. I’m a feminist, I voted for Bernie Sanders in the primaries, and barring any extreme circumstances, I plan to vote Democratic for the rest of my life.

When this year’s election started in earnest, I did a massive Facebook-friend cleanse of anyone outside of my family who proudly, wholeheartedly supported Donald Trump. These people were (and still are) deluded and hateful, and could never add anything substantial to a political discussion except “I hate women, people of color, poor people, organized government, law, order, justice, truth, and logic." My other conservative friends, however, I kept. Friends that believe affordable healthcare and college are not rights; that the trickle-down system is effective; that the wealth discrepancy is the fault of the people, not the system; that we should say #AllLivesMatter instead of #BlackLivesMatter; and that there is not a gun problem in America, there is a people problem. These are people that I disagree with most of the time, and it’s important to keep listening to them.

In the age of the Internet, it’s easier than ever to put oneself in a “bubble” of agreement. Surround yourself with people with all the same opinions as you, and have wonderful discussions on how much you agree with each other. Only read from news sources with the same political bend as you, and slowly start to believe they are more credible and neutral—even if they are not. Only watch political debates from your own party. This is a comfortable place to be. It is not a good one. When you put yourself in this echo chamber, you becomes biased and intolerant of all other opinions. You form a skewed perspective of the world—either that the opinions in your bubble are the only opinions, and everyone else is some sort of extremist; or that you are objectively good and the other side is objectively evil. These perspectives have enabled our political system to become so violently bipartisan, and thus less effective. It spawns ignorance. It spawns intolerance. It causes grid-block in Congress and government shutdown over issues that could have been easily compromised on. Listening to and working to understand the viewpoint of the other side does not make you a bad Democrat, a bad Republican, a bad Libertarian or a bad Green Party member. It makes you a knowledgeable one.

I don’t pretend to be moderate in any way. But I do have an extended understanding of the Republican point of view, one that I wouldn’t have if I only kept young, millennial Bernie Sanders supporters on all my social media. I understand that Reaganomics brought on an era of prosperity. I understand that the Bushes, for all their faults, were strong leaders and upheld traditional law to the best of their ability (please clap). I understand that Republicans value hard work in all its forms. I understand that Donald Trump is in no way a real Republican. Many liberal people my age do not, and it isn’t helping.

And now I’m gonna go all self-help infomercial on you: if you, or any of your loved ones, suffer from “insulated political bubble” syndrome, seek help immediately. Reach out to people you disagree with. Watch speeches and debates from members of the opposite party. Forgo your biased news sources. Check your facts. Don’t worry about agreeing. Worry about understanding. Educate yourself. Make yourself better. From there, you can make our politics better.

Thank you.