by David Ruby

In this issue, the Dragonfly Report welcomes guest contributor David Ruby who will share with our readers what it was like growing up with communist parents in Berkeley during the 60s and 70s. David was one of the many kids who are now known as Red Diaper Babies, a term popularized in the book Red Diapers: Growing up in the Communist Left by Judy Kaplan and Linn Shapiro.

I really didn’t notice anything different about my childhood in the beginning. I played with kids on the block and went home. I would have dinner with my family but remember still being a bit hungry after all the food was gone. There were no seconds. At bedtime, my father would read Karl Marx’s the Communist Manifesto until I fell asleep. I don’t think I paid attention to the message. In fact, looking back I’m sure I fell asleep due to the monotony and not understanding what the manifesto was all about. Some nights my mother would read to me but she preferred poetry from Mao Tse Tong. For some reason, the line ‘The Red Army fears not the trials of March’ stuck with me. I would dream about marching with my classmates but it was never clear where we were marching to. I was hoping we were marching towards a miniature golf course or Disneyland but I would always wake up before we reached our final destination.

It was probably about 3rd grade when I first realized that my parents were not like other parents. Most of my male classmates were wearing Converse All Star high tops to school and I thought they were awesome. When I got home, I asked my mother if she could buy me a pair. She just shook her head and said wait until your father gets home. That night they called me into the living room and while pointing to my current pair of ugly shoes said, “No child shall have two pairs of shoes until every child has one.” They made me repeat that three times and sent me to bed. That night I dreamed I was wearing brand new Converse All Star high tops, walking down the halls of my school and getting compliments from all of my classmates. When I woke up I put on my proletarian Buster Browns and unenthusiastically walked towards school.

About a year later, I asked my dad for an allowance. After all, I always did my chores like taking out the garbage and making my bed. I wanted to go out with my friends and maybe buy a snack at the local grocery store. I’ll never forget what he said.

“Listen son –  money is a tool of the bourgeoisie class. We need to live simply like the peasants in China. Offer your friends some of the green beans growing in our garden.”

This is the first time I started to question my parent’s beliefs. I hated going out with my friends and never having any pocket money to buy snacks. The parents of my friends started to encourage their kids not to hang out with me because I was the son of commies. I started to rebel. I couldn’t go on like this.

I noticed that even though my parents said that we were all equal, they seemed to have more power. They were always the ones making the decisions, and they always seemed to know what was best for me and everyone else. I started reading the writings of Karl Marx and Mao Tse Tong to see if I could use logic that they understood to get more power in the family dynamic.

In 6th grade, I called my parents into the living room and this is what I said:

“It has come to my attention as your son that you have not been following three of the basic principles of Marxist ethics. You’ve completely ignored the principle of equality by not sharing your wages with me. Similarly, you have not adhered to the principle of freedom which necessitates equality and prosperity. You have failed miserably with the principle of progress. I could have increased my productive energy with those new shoes.”

They both stared at me in disbelief. I continued.

“Just remember In Mao’s China during the cultural revolution children turned in their parents and teachers to get in good with the leaders. Mao also said that to rebel is justified. From this point on, you need to take my requests seriously.” 

They sent me to bed without dinner that evening but during the next few months I started to receive a modest allowance and my mother bought me a new pair of Converse All Stars. I eventually got a paper route delivering the Oakland Tribune to make some extra money for myself and my life improved dramatically. The parents of my friends started to welcome me back into their circle.

I am now an adult with kids of my own. Looking back at my childhood as a red diaper baby, I realize that my parents really wanted the best for me. I am very lenient with my own kids and teach them what I know about Marx and Mao but I have one rule that I am inflexible about. 

“No child shall have three pairs of shoes until every child has two.”