Building A Bridge

A story of two sisters across a political divide — and the attempt to come together.

The first time my younger sister Becky tried to talk to me about politics, she was around 8. I told her she didn’t know what she was talking about and she could bring up her concerns again once she was of voting age and wasn’t being brainwashed by my conservative parents. The doting baby sister that she is, she adhered to this demand and even added a few years for good measure.

We were not a family that spent Sunday dinners talking about politicians, laws and policy, but politics nevertheless felt like a current throughout my life. As a teenager, I often thought I must be adopted. I was born to be a “Social Justice Warrior”; how did I end up in this home where the inhabitants watch Fox News every day? It became an unspoken, uncomfortable thread between us, only manifesting itself when I would make snide remarks such as saying George Bush was a horrible president but I wished he was my dad so it would be impossible for him to hate me as a gay woman. Or when my mom and step-dad were talking about Trayvon Martin and defending the shooter. I walked out of the room in disgust, with my hoodie over my head and asked them not to shoot me. We went on like this, not understanding each other and not trying.

When Donald Trump announced his candidacy for president, my first thought was “I’m going to have to disown my family if he becomes the Republican nominee.” My mom had been murdered only a few weeks prior and the family bond that was always there despite our differences, was stretching thin under stress and grief. My sister and step-dad hate Hillary Clinton. I’ve never been able to fully understand their reasoning, despite having asked. They gave the answers that, by now, we’ve all heard ad nauseum: emails; Benghazi; not trustworthy; cold. I was never satisfied with these answers because they didn’t go any deeper or acknowledge any bias they may have, but because we know how this story ends, we know millions of voters felt the same way my family did.

By the time Trump became the nominee, I was a full blown politics junkie. I was posting articles on Facebook several times a day. I had all the alerts on my phone. I couldn’t stay away from Twitter. I had not yet spoken to my family about Trump, because I was afraid. I tried to specifically talk about the articles I posted in such a way that maybe they would feel compelled to read them. When the Access Hollywood tape came out, I texted Becky and said, “ You know what he was saying was bragging about sexual assault right?” What I really wanted to say was “If you vote for a sexual predator, I will never look at you the same way again.” She said yes to the question I asked and I felt relief.

While I was silently obsessing over who my family may vote for, my sister in particular, life continued. I moved. I planned my wedding. Becky got married. Whether it is because neither of us have a mom anymore and we need each other or both of us have grown as people, we began talking about issues that I would have never brought up with her before.

She is nine years younger than me but it wasn’t her age that stopped me from engaging (other than that initial time so long ago): it was the assumption I knew her position before I even asked. I had formulated what “Republican” meant. I knew the outcome. Why did I need to ask her or anyone that identified that way their thoughts of a particular subject?

We have had discussions about abortion, kneeling in front of the flag, gay rights and a plethora of hot-button issues. We don’t always agree but we try to understand each other. I found out she doesn’t even identify as a Republican; she identifies as a conservative. There is a distinction, something new I also learned. We see eye-to-eye on more than I thought. In two months, she will stand proudly beside me while I marry another woman and that is far more important to me than what her thoughts are on sanctuary cities or free college.

I still do not know who my sister voted for in the 2016 election. Maybe I will get the courage some day to ask. Or maybe it doesn’t matter.

This transformation in my thinking has expanded beyond my family. I listen to and read conservative voices (albeit all “Never Trumpers”), something I would have never considered before. I am not happy about where our country is but I am grateful that the election of Trump has shown me that humanity matters more than the party listed on your voter registration.