Why I won’t talk politics with my brother

 (Or with you if you share his beliefs.)

This post has been one I’ve put off writing over and over again and I can’t do that any more. So bear with me because this is personal and hard to write. Or skip the post, your call.

My brother is my only full sibling, we share both parents and are just 11 months apart. When we were little, we were very close although much of that was from necessity as we had a bit of “us against the crazy world” thing going on. We huddled together as we shifted from my mom and dad’s house to my father and stepmother’s house, and went from being the only two children to the two youngest of six. Then both families added kids: my mom & dad had a child and adopted a child, and my father and stepmother had a child. 

He was there when much of my abuse occurred and that damaged him as much as it did me. It also shaped him; he’s said for decades that he’s a staunch supporter and advocate of survivors of sexual abuse, especially women.

You see where this is going, I’m sure. Yes, he supports our current president and at least from the outside looking in, I think he’s fully a supporter. And that’s where the title of this post comes from.

I cannot support 45 in anything. He’s gone on record about sexually assaulting women, he’s bragged about it and shown zero accountability or remorse. There’s not one bit of repentance in him. Supporting 45 invalidates any talk about being an advocate of survivors like me. You cannot have both positions in your head and be reasonable or sane. 

And to take it a step further, let’s go ahead and talk about abortion. I see conservatives making this election or really most elections about this issue, they phrase it in terms of being pro-life. Well OK, I get that. I’m personally deeply uncomfortable with abortion, especially if it’s used as birth control. But I extend that sanctity of life to all life, including convicted murderers. If life is precious before birth, it’s equally precious after birth. To remain consistent to my own values, I cannot support casual abortion and I absolutely do not support the death penalty.

Lest this start a distracting argument, let me be equally clear that I also don’t have it in me to tell someone who was raped, or has a diagnosis of severe disabilities or birth defects or a tubal pregnancy that tough shit, you must carry that baby to term. It’s clear we need a safe, legal option.

In 2004, Benedictine Sister Joan Chittister said the following in an interview with Bill Moyers:

"I do not believe that just because you are opposed to abortion, that that makes you pro-life. In fact, I think in many cases, your morality is deeply lacking if all you want is a child born but not a child fed, a child educated, a child housed. And why would I think that you don't? Because you don't want any tax money to go there. That's not pro-life. That's pro-birth. We need a much broader conversation on what the morality of pro-life is."

That hit home for me. Where is the conservative support for women after they’ve given birth? Rhetorical question, of course, because they are not willing to fund social safety nets. 

Let me wrap up this much too long post. I started by saying this is why I won’t talk politics with my brother. I mean that. If we discuss politics any more than we have (and I shut down that line of conversation every time he’s started it), I will end the relationship. Everyone has their point of no return, and this one is mine. If you believe the way he does, and we have a relationship you want to keep, then honor my boundaries.

Oh Google extensions

How I love you so much. Thanks to you, I am ad free on Facebook. And now and even better, thanks to you I don't see any political rants on Facebook either. Instead I see calming photos of kitties.

What am I talking about? This link! I installed the extension yesterday and secretly wondered if it would work. This morning I have kitty pictures with a "content blocked" tag. Success!

Words matter

I believe that politics tends to bring out the absolute worst in people, and as my friends know, I really dislike the entire long, drawn-out political process with all the hateful ads and endless, pointless debates.

I didn’t always detest politics. In fact, when George McGovern ran for president, I was pretty active and vocal in my school’s election activities the way only a 12 year old who is trying to become her own person can be. I had gotten a POW/MIA bracelet*, and was fervently anti-war so I supported McGovern 100%. I don’t  remember who my parents supported in that election, but my younger brother was an avid Nixon supporter as were most of the kids at his school and mine (just like their parents, I guess).

That year I attended a junior high school kind of known for violence. We had a lot of race-based fights, enough so that forks and knives had been removed from the school cafeteria so we could only eat with spoons. I saw girls wearing the giant hoop earrings so popular then, the kind that touched your shoulders have those same earrings torn out of their ears during fights. That's one of the reasons I’ve never worn big earrings.

We also had a lot of bomb threats, one or two a month most months. I’m pretty sure those were tied to test days, but the police department and the school had to take them seriously. Clearing the school would always take about an hour so we’d stand outside in the heat or cold and just wait.

The bus ride to and from school was similarly challenging. The bad kids, the ones I feared, always sat in the back of the bus. They’d yell or throw things and generally just act intimidating toward the rest of us, so I made sure I got to the bus line early so I could sit up front.

One day during the election season, I was late boarding the bus and had to sit in the back, smack in the middle of those boys. I kept my head down and hoped they would ignore me, but that wasn’t the case. They started saying mean things about me, about me supporting McGovern, and calling me names. Then they started spitting on me. Yes, spitting on me. The bus driver either didn’t notice or didn’t care and so I sat, getting spit upon for that endless ride home.

I managed to hold in my tears until I got home. I ran in the front door dropping my coat and books as I headed for the bathroom to wash my hair. I remember telling my brother that this was how people who believed the way he did behaved. I don’t remember anything else ever happening as a result of that ride.

That incident didn’t dissuade me from voting. In fact, I’ve voted in every election I’ve been eligible to vote in ever since. But I remain very private about my political beliefs and wish others would too. If you start ranting about your beliefs, I’m likely to just walk away, and I will most definitely ignore everything you're saying.  

*As an aside, my POW was an Air Force officer and I got to see his return on TV. I lost the bracelet when my house was burglarized so I no longer have it, and don't remember his name.