I logged onto social media today, and once again, my timeline left me feeling a bit down. A stroll through “Memories” unearthed moments of lighthearted exchanges with friends who have since faded from my feed (and my life). The nostalgia was heavy as I scrolled through our past interactions, but I understood the reasons for their absence.
The shift began during the last election cycle. While we had previously navigated political disagreements with playful jabs at one another’s candidates, everything changed in 2016. As Election Day approached, I was taken aback when friends I admired chose to support a man with a history of infidelity and admitted sexual misconduct. They brushed it off as mere “locker-room talk”—a phrase that still stings.
As a survivor of sexual assault, I found it unfathomable. How could I be surrounded by people who accepted such behavior? And it wasn’t just misogyny they accepted; they endorsed the racism and nationalism that permeated his campaign. They didn’t just tolerate it; they embraced it. They voted him into office. That moment felt like a betrayal, and something inside me shifted irrevocably.
I used to be a carefree person, reflected in my social media presence filled with laughter and cute animal videos. It was a fun, lighthearted approach to life. But these days, it’s hard to appreciate a good cat video when my feed is dominated by nuclear threats, discriminatory legislation, and tragic events. I’m awake now, and I’m frustrated.
The relationships that once brought me joy have dwindled. These were friends from my childhood, from middle school roller-skating parties to college binge sessions over banana pudding and TV dramas. They loved me until my passion turned into anger. Then, suddenly, I was too much for them to handle.
Some suggest I should dial back my political discourse, perhaps to keep the peace. And while the idea of retreating to a world of cat videos is tempting, I can’t ignore the reality faced by my friends who are marginalized—my LGBTQ+ friends, my immigrant friends, my friends of color, and my Muslim friends. For them, life has never felt light, and it’s a privilege I can no longer afford to ignore.
So, no, I can’t return to that naive state. I must speak out. I’ve witnessed the darkness our society can harbor, and it has altered my perspective forever. I refuse to go silent to ease my discomfort or that of others— not until everyone in this country can feel safe and comfortable.
Until that day arrives, I will continue to advocate for what I believe is right. I will call out injustice whenever I see it, driven by the conviction that I am on the right side of history. If it costs me relationships, so be it. While it’s unfortunate, I’m okay with that.
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In summary, my political beliefs have inevitably cost me some relationships, but I find strength in my convictions. I can no longer afford to be silent, and that’s a price I’m willing to pay.