A letter to my Trump supporting family members and “friends”

Dear loved ones who voted, and/or will vote for Donald Trump,

Y’all, I tried.

I wanted to believe after 2016 that you weren’t endorsers of white supremacy, racism, homophobia, sexism, and more. I wanted to believe that you at least cared about me (despite ignoring our sobbing tears on election night and literal fear for our family). I wanted to believe that you did not fully appreciate the harm you would cause. I wanted to believe your sexism did not run that deep despite myriad “but her emails!”

White supremacy culture taught me all of these things. It told me such pretty lies about how you just couldn’t be people whose need for a white man to save you would trump my personhood. It promised me you wouldn’t be people who minimized my feelings of fear and pain on social media the day after the election. It told me that our love and care for one another would outweigh your darkest secrets, the racism you enacted in the voting booth. Such pretty, pretty lies.

I ignored the racist comments at family Thanksgiving, because I didn’t want to rock the boat. That’s mine to atone for. I stayed connected to you on social media for a while, because surely those memes trashing liberals and gay people weren’t actually about me. You professed your love of Jesus while quietly disparaging my ordination to ministry in family conversations you thought I never heard about. You think I don’t see the exquisite edge you walk of trying to say “but I’m your friend” in one breath, and posting thinly veiled content on the local social media forum in the other. You think I haven’t looked up your voting records, or political campaign donations. I have. I see you.

I’m older now, wiser now, and clearer now. I’ve confronted myself, and confronted you more deeply. Folks, I love you, but you don’t love me. You have made that clear in the privacy of your voting booths, the content you post, the comments you make while we pass the side dishes, and more. This is not about Republican, or Democrat, or prioritizing “politics” (my very existence is political btw) over family.

Elections have consequences.

You cannot claim to love us, and then vote for someone who literally wants to take away my family’s rights. That is not love. I am not the only LGBTQ+ person in our family by the way. It’s not just me you are hurting. You cannot claim to love the Black children (or adults) in our family, but vote for white supremacy and ignore the brown babies locked in cages on the border. And I’ll be damned if you are going to cause her the same kind of harm you’ve caused me with your casual racism and homophobia.

Black Lives Matter. I can say it, and I am about it. Can you? Are you? Or are you just interested in gushing over cute baby photos, and pretending that “you don’t see color?” Do you know what my spouse’s pronouns are despite the MANY times we’ve talked about this in public? No? Funny, how that works. I’ve spent years working to atone for the times I let you slide, and to re-invest in my own work, and the work of the movement. What about you? You can’t even look me in the eye, or try to apologize, so that’s really all I need to know.

You are my family. Some of you are my friends. I will always love many of you. But this is a break up letter. You cannot vote for Donald Trump and call it an act of love. You can spare me the lecture about my “Christian responsibility” to love you. Jesus is clear I am not required to stay in relationships with people who are oppressors (he is clear on the difference between an enemy and an oppressor). If you are white and voting for Trump, you are participating in the oppression of others. No amount of couching your vote in white Jesus, your belief in being “pro-life” (while ignoring babies locked in cages on the border), or anything else lets you off the hook.

Every year as the weather turns warm, I am reminded of big, sprawling family picnics at Fair Haven. Those gatherings were full of food, laughter, and so much fun. I imagined growing up, and bringing home the person I loved to those gatherings. The next generation of the people who loved me into myself. I never imagined as a small person that we would stand in this moment. I never imagined you would look at that little girl you loved, and vote to strip away my personhood. Except of course you would. That’s the power of the whiteness, the quiet racism and homophobia, the other values you never quite spoke out loud. Turns out love really can’t conquer all.

I have to go now. I’m spending my morning connecting LGBTQ+ kindred to attorneys to ensure their families aren’t dismantled. Because some of these folks have joined folks from our family of origin (y’all know who you are) to form the family circle I can count on. Someday, I hope you might join us there again. Until then…

Clear eyes, full hearts, no fascism.

With heartbreak and clarity,

Heidi

PS — I love you, Mom. Thanks for showing up for me, and hanging a pride flag out of your office window.