A woman in Colorado used to pride herself on engaging political opponents without judgment. But since relatives embraced Covid conspiracy theories while she was doing emergency pandemic response work, she has become viscerally wary of conservatives.
A lifelong Republican in Florida, disillusioned by former President Donald Trump, has listened to racist comments from friends and wondered if he ever truly knew them.
Nearly one in five voters said in a recent New York Times/Siena College poll that political divisions had hurt their relationships. After the poll was published, the Times asked readers to share their experiences. More than 500 people responded, many of them describing friendships and familial ties that had long withstood disagreements, only to crumble over the past few years.
They expressed complex emotions: ambivalence about their choices; confidence that they had made the right calls, but sorrow at the circumstances that had prompted them; longing for a time when political differences felt easier to ignore. The trouble, some said, is that when the issues are as fundamental as democracy or as personal as abortion, it feels impossible to separate politics from core values.
Here is a sampling of the responses, which have been edited and condensed.
Elise Vinson, 33, Loveland, Colorado
‘I used to try to meet people where they were’
I lost my immediate family to QAnon, far-right extremism and Covid denialism. My grandfather died of Covid, and no one wore masks at his funeral. I was doing emergency response work at the same time my family was reiterating misinformation that I and my co-workers, some committing suicide influenced by the trauma of the work, were liars or dupes. I tried to show them pictures of the refrigerated trucks, the field hospitals, to explain that I wanted them to be safe, but nothing mattered.
I used to try to meet people where they were at and empathise with their underlying needs. Now every pickup truck I see with a “Blue Lives Matter” sticker — or, like in my town, militia stickers — is a threat waiting to be realised. Every wayward glance from a middle-aged man at Home Depot is silent disapproval of me doing “man’s work”, instead of what my family has explained as my “divine role” as a woman to be pregnant and leave the rest to my husband. Every Second Amendment flag feels like an excuse for school shootings.
I feel like I can’t trust a single conservative. It will only lead to more pain.
J.G. Grissom, 63, Florida
‘They have become unreachable and irrational’
My wife and I were lifelong moderate Republicans who rarely paid attention to politics. Trump’s tone and tenor changed all of that. Many of our friends and family members supported MAGA extremism, its rhetoric and insurrection.
We avoid contact with them, as they have become unreachable and irrational in their undying devotion to Trump. They have been willing to express racist, homophobic, intolerant, anti-mask, anti-vaccination, irrational viewpoints. We view maintaining and justifying these extremist beliefs as reasons to question their judgment, rational thinking and character.
My wife fled Cuba in 1965, and we are astounded by the number of similar Cuban relatives who are incapable of seeing the similarities between Trump’s rhetoric and Castro’s. It feels disheartening and unsettling to hear people close to you support a man so clearly flawed and willing to overthrow our democracy. It makes you question if you really ever knew them in the first place.
Audrey Vera, 33, Oakland, California
‘I finally told them my girlfriend was a cop’
I played bass in a death-rock band for almost five years. We would say that we were like family. I could go to a show and either know someone playing or know people there and feel welcomed. I am a nonbinary lesbian, and my bandmates are also queer and trans, so having chosen family is huge.
I started dating my partner in June 2020, around the time of the George Floyd murder. She works as a cop. I knew that was going to be contentious, so I kept her profession a secret. Throughout that year, they met my girlfriend and never had an issue with her. Around the time the Floyd cop had his trial, my band decided they wanted to write an ACAB [”all cops are bastards”] song, and I finally told them my girlfriend was a cop. They didn’t talk to me for a week and then called to say I wasn’t “a fit” for the band.
I find it all very disheartening, but mostly so because she became a cop to have an influence on changing the police workforce culture and create a safer environment for women, queer and trans people. Before I met her, I never would have thought I would be romantically involved with a cop. But if I hadn’t been open to unpacking my own snap judgments about people who become cops, then I wouldn’t have won the lesbian lottery. It really just speaks to how much your life can get unlocked when your gut goes by what you experience of a person instead of social narratives you’ve been told.
E.R. Wallerstein, 74, Prairie Village, Kansas
‘I naively thought our friendship could outlast this’
I lost a good friend of nearly 40 years because he couldn’t stop making every text, every email, every phone call about my being a “hater” for leaning liberal. He even sent me a birthday card with Trump’s photo because he knew it would upset me.
Finally, I gave him an ultimatum: “I never once asked that you reform your political opinions, only that you stop sharing them with me.” His response? “I can’t. I’m having too much fun.” We haven’t communicated since.
He was always kind and considerate until Trump was elected. His responses to remarks by high-ranking Democrats quickly became dismissive, cruel and even crude. I naively thought our friendship could outlast this, but after years of responding with “please stop,” I realised that getting out of what had become an abusive relationship was my only option.
George Fisher, 17, Cincinnati
‘It’s become less political and more personal’
Developing conservative leanings in a relatively progressive family has been challenging. I’m pro-life, and when I began developing that opinion, people were willing to listen. But with Dobbs v Jackson, it’s become less political and more personal.
My cousins, we’ve had some conflict there. They kind of want to distance themselves from me because they view my opinions as so absurd that they would rather not associate. When it takes place digitally versus face to face, they’re different things. I was texting with one of my cousins through Instagram, and it was very hostile. We saw each other recently at a wedding, and we kind of laughed it off. I left social media, and now when I see my cousins, it’s a lot better. There is still awkwardness, but I don’t think it’s a completely ruined relationship.
Politics can be deeply tied to someone’s values and can be a good judge of character, though it is important not to jump to conclusions. I am pro-life because of my deep reverence and appreciation for life that I derived from my religious background as a Catholic — not because I am anti-woman. I try to apply my same standards to others, but it can be difficult to see someone’s views from their angle.
Cameron Morris, 30, Chico, California
‘I couldn’t rise above his beliefs’
He’s a self-proclaimed moderate conservative; I’m just right of being a social democrat. Besides this, we’re very compatible. I wanted to try a romantic relationship — to prove to myself politics didn’t matter — but I couldn’t sustain choosing silence for peace every day when something that provoked me left his mouth.
It took a toll on my self-image. Dismissing the chance to advocate for causes I’ve fought for my whole life to keep the peace in the house pushed me away from a guy who loved me. Even though he loved me for being the silly liberal that I am, I couldn’t return the favour.
When we broke up, I was left wondering who is the worse person: someone who picks politics over genuine connection or someone who doesn’t “believe in feeding the homeless”? He’d never act on such cruel words, but the language he used in our home was gut-wrenching. I couldn’t rise above his beliefs to show to the world that it’s still possible to come together in these crazy times. I thought love was stronger than beliefs — I just found it’s so hard to choose to love someone when their political mind lacks any sense of compassion.
Mari Verano, 43, Vacaville, California
‘Utter dismissal and cruelty’
I ended a personal and professional relationship with someone I had chosen to mentor in graduate school because of the derogatory way he had spoken about people who were upset at Trump being elected — “big babies” — people in marginalised communities that both he and I had worked in.
I went to graduate school for mental health counselling. His words of utter dismissal and cruelty made me conclude that I could not further associate myself with him without my own reputation as a clinician being compromised.
However, the Los Angeles City Council scandal was a reminder that just because someone votes Democrat doesn’t necessarily mean they are anti-racist. Sadly, it wasn’t a shock to me, because I have let go of white liberal friends who co-signed racism when racist comments were made toward me on social media.
Drake Dewey, 23, Timberlake, Ohio
‘I kind of feel like I’m the black sheep’
No one in my family except my mother and my father know that I voted for Trump. They all think that I voted third-party. When any political discussion comes up, I give a very watered-down, moderate answer. I’ve been recommended many times to not get into any political debates with any of my family members.
A close relative is very keen on her Democratic beliefs, and I don’t really get to express my beliefs around her. Anytime I do, I kind of feel like I’m the black sheep of the family. Another relative is a lot more vocal. She resonates so much with her beliefs that our relationship is completely fractured.
If I were to open my mouth and say I voted for Trump, she would never, ever speak to me again — I am very sure of that. She doesn’t know, but my views are aligned enough, so I think she’s put two and two together. Ever since the election, it’s just been a very, very cold and tense relationship. Before the election, we were more concerned with enjoying each other’s company. There was a little more warmth, but since the election, I think the warmth has really just gone.
JoAnn Jacobs, 71, Jacksonville, Florida
‘They had never really seen me’
I am an African American woman. I am also a retired FDNY firefighter who was appointed to the first class of women in 1982. We entered burning buildings; we put out dumpster fires; we responded to lockouts and car accidents. We shared bellyaching laughs over practical jokes, and watched and agonised over 18 Super Bowls. But when we disagreed about the death of Eleanor Bumpurs and, many years later, the shooting of Amadou Diallo, I realised there was a true divide that could not or would not be crossed.
I retired from FDNY in 2000 but maintained friendships with two employees. These women were closer to me than my own sister. The fact that I was a Democrat and they were Republican never impeded our friendship. Even though I knew they’d voted for Trump, it wasn’t until the summer of 2020 that I began to question my own integrity if I maintained my friendship with them.
In June 2020, I wrote letters explaining my feelings, my sadness and reluctance in ending our friendship. I still believed them to be good people. But after the deaths of so many unarmed Black people, I was especially dismayed, given the decades-long friendship we shared, that they did not see beyond the “racial divide”. In essence, they had never really seen me.
Maureen Penman, 65, Columbus, Ohio
Trying ‘not to cave in to my baser angel’
Every day I remind myself that someone who did not vote as I did put out food and water for a little stray cat. I once busted my tail clearing invasive plants from a local park with a guy whose T-shirt showed a different political affiliation than mine. The volunteer who leads yoga classes for cancer patients is not of my party.
These are the things that I have to focus on if I am going to contribute anything good to the world, rather than curl in on myself in anger. Every hour, a thousand kindnesses are being done by someone who does not vote as I do. Yes, it’s a struggle and I am not immune to bouts of despair, rage and anxiety. But I am going to do all I can not to cave in to my baser angel.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
Written by: Maggie Astor
Photographs by: Jim Wilson, Megan Jelinger and Hilary Swift
©2022 THE NEW YORK TIMES