To keep or not to keep

“So, what now?” is a question that might be bubbling below the surface of your thoughts. Or maybe it’s so consistently on your mind that you wonder if it has become your new mantra. Although it has only been two weeks since the confirmation of a second Trump presidency, it feels like it is both longer and shorter than that. I am reminded of the “off” feeling during the pandemic, when time didn’t quite make sense anymore. The calendar said months had gone by, but I wasn’t quite sure where they had gone. Perhaps this is how trauma is experienced – as happening and not happening all at once.

Regarding the question posed earlier, several scenarios have played out in my head. Admittedly, some of them uncreatively resemble the end of the doomsday Netflix film “Don’t Look Up.” With an asteroid on course to hit the planet, the characters partake in debauchery, connect with family or take a spaceship to the nearest inhabitable planet. With a less grim prognosis than the film, what do we do? Do we take the trips that we’ve been holding back on? Do we take this time to reconnect with loved ones? Or do we sever ties with the people who voted red instead of blue? To my surprise, I find myself focusing on the latter question.

To many, myself included, it feels like severing ties is the easiest and best solution. It’s a way of cutting out the relationships with the family and friends who voted in a way that feels like they sold your rights, health and welfare for some cheap gas and eggs. The answer seemed pretty cut and dry for me, although the feeling has recently become unclear. I now hear this annoying voice in my head, asking, “Does emotional severance wound us in ways that we can’t comprehend? And does it pose a risk of us then bleeding out?”

I’ve cut ties with family before. When my father died, the incongruent connections I had with his side became even more apparent, unbearably so. Previously, these relationships had been propped up with a sense of duty to keep being perceived as a “good son” and a “good brother.” But when he died, I realized how little fruit these relationships bore. The veins, so to speak, had so little blood flowing that it became dangerous to keep the appendage they once fed. Amputation became a way of self-preservation.

More recently, over the summer, I cut ties with an online friend group that I’ve played video games with since the start of the pandemic. As someone who built my own desktop PC (i.e. a big nerd), I gamed with them frequently. I mostly enjoyed our time together, although our differences became clear when politics entered the discussion. I stayed, because I felt like I had a real chance of changing their minds. I shared videos of my drag performances, countered their ill-conceived arguments, and when they made “gay jokes,” I would chime in at the end with, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Ultimately, the change I envisioned didn’t happen.

I wonder if they also initially stayed in hopes of changing my mind? I can’t envision that happening – them staying in hopes of swaying me by their arguments. It begs the question, do people ever change, or is change a lofty ideal to help make tomorrow seem less grim? Or does change simply take time, making it all the more difficult to perceive?

I was told over the weekend by the one online friend that I kept that another was missing me. I know that friend voted red. I know he views the world differently than I do. And yet, I still find myself wanting to reconnect. Is this a chance for him to change? Is this a chance for me to change? Not in my political beliefs, but in allowing myself to be close and vulnerable to someone who indirectly votes against my rights? In traditional Diné culture, there is a word for the kinship system that brings about communal harmony, K’é. It’s a way of recognizing that we belong to one another, despite our differences. I’ve been trying to apply this to my post-election life, which has been difficult. It might also not be appropriate in all situations, but I wonder if it is in this one? Is there a place where it might be appropriate for you?

– Doug Gonzalez