‘Tis the Season to Fight with Aunt Gertie About Stem Cells
When I was 15 my stepdad taught me how to drive, letting me shred the clutch of his black-cherry Jetta as I lurched us to the far side of the Rockridge BART parking lot and back. At one point, noticing me fixate on a line of parked cars, he said, “You really don’t want to stare at oncoming cars, because you’ll steer right toward them.”
I think about that piece of advice a lot because it’s a good metaphor for a terrible habit I have: in conversation I always find myself irresistibly drawn toward the issue I know I shouldn’t touch, a sensitive issue for the person I’m talking to, or an issue on which I know we’ll disagree. Maybe my internal fretting about not mentioning the issue makes it impossible to avoid. I’ve cracked DUI jokes around someone recently collared for a DUI; proclaimed the hopelessness of making it as a musician around struggling musicians. This, ad infinitum. I’m always doing it.
Sometimes I think something’s wrong with me, like I’m just a wired to be a jerk, but on sunnier days I think there must be a psychological explanation for this tractor-beam phenomenon, that the reason we have a cliche for it–foot in mouth–is because I do not suffer alone.
In any case I’m thankful that when I visit my family for the holidays I don’t have to worry about putting my foot in my mouth about politics. We’re a pretty politically homogenous bunch. There isn’t any issue I have to scrupulously avoid, which is beyond lucky, because I’d be guaranteed to bring it up.
I never thought about my luck in this respect until this past Thanksgiving, which I spent at my grandmother’s house. My grandfather had passed away about a month earlier, and after dinner my grandmother asked if my sister and I wanted to take any of his books. There weren’t many–a stack of hardback volumes of photographs in the hall, and two short rows of shelves beneath side tables in his office. Kneeling in front of one of the side tables I was queasy to discover that of the fifteen books my grandfather owned, four were by Bill O’Reilly. Who’s Looking Out for You? one of the spines demanded to know, and it weirded me out to think this question had resonated with my grandfather. I hadn’t known he was arch conservative, because we never talked politics at his house* and because all his children had turned out way left of center. I was suddenly relieved that some alternate reality in which my grandfather and I fought about abortion over candied yams had never come to pass.
It isn’t that my family is conflict-free. There are occasional fights about stupid stuff, especially between me and my stepdad. This summer we had a huge blowout triggered by my observation that Howard Fineman was easing up on the Just For Men. Once we fought about whether or not physics was the most difficult subject one could study. Once, when I sneered at watching Nicholas Cage’s “The Family Man” on TV, he told me I wasn’t a spiritual person.
He and I actually have a close, happy relationship, a friendship even, but family is strange this way. Fights originate in minor misalignments that neither of us really cares about, and then they reactivate early-family-fusion battles we resolved ten years ago, but from which we still retain muscle memory. It’s easy to go back to fighting as if nothing has changed, even though everything has. That’s how families are, I guess–we’re always dragging around the carcasses of the people we used to be.
But so I think of how it would be if my family fought about big stuff, ideological stuff–evolution, health care, the Twilight series–and I’d imagine the intersection of old wounds and fights of substance would be radioactive. The basic conflict-negotiation skills I learned in summer camp are still serviceable in political discussion with mixed company–speak in I-statements, respect the other person’s point of view, keep mimicry to a minimum, know when to walk away, try not to give the finger on your way out–but it’s hard to be that cool a customer when it comes to family conflict.
So I’m curious how people who fundamentally disagree with their families negotiate danger zones during get-togethers. Are there issues you know you will start fights around family? Do you avoid them altogether? Or do you–as I fear I would–find yourself forking into them in spite of yourself?
*On our way back to New York my sister and I talked about the O’ Reilly books. She wasn’t surprised by them. “Don’t you remember he had a George W. Bush wall calendar?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, “but I guess I thought that was kind of an apolitical support-the-dude-in-office kind of thing.”
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I disagree with my family over nearly everything, and I am afflicted with foot-in-mouth disease as well. I am often the unintentional instigator of family debates around the dinner table and we have learned to dance a careful waltz with each other to avoid the danger zones while having a meaningful discussion.
What we have learned to avoid, however, is god and religion. When we find the discussion veering in the direction of god, or if I accidentally abruptly bring us there, we have learned to make a joke about the subject so that someone else can change the topic before much damage is done. The sense of relief when this happens is almost tactile, the room instantly deflates as we move on to safer ground. Without ever speaking about it, my family understands that certain debates can’t have a winner.
Wise advice–lighten the mood and try to keep religion off the table.
In response to another comment. See in context »It can be good to know when to move on in a conversation, but I’m wondering about politics and religion being “off the table” so to speak, when it comes to polite conversation.
My sense of why both of these subjects have become so increasingly polarized is that nobody seems to know how to discuss them without taking everything so personally. This can be tricky, for sure, but it’s hard to get dialogue going with those who are on the other side from me politically without someone (and these days it’s more them than me – growing up is possible!) getting riled up and indignant.
This is where some of Gina’s summer camp lessons come in. “I” think this way, not “we” or “the world.” Asking “What’s your take on xyz?” allows you to listen to and respect the other side, even if that involves gritting your teeth. (Should I be using “one” instead of “you” here?)
All that being said, I see where you’re coming from. Most of my family is hard right, with my oldest brother and me representing the left. It’s true we generally avoid those ever personal topics of religion and politics at family gathering, just to keep the peace. however, if someone starts spewing BS a la FOX “news” I feel I have a duty to contribute, if for no other reason than there are children present. They need to hear both sides – or simply the facts! So, pick your battles. Or mint flavored Docs – nice one Philip Leitner.
In response to another comment. See in context »I think you’re on the money, that it’s unfortunate that some of the most interesting stuff to chew on is off the table for polite conversation, and I think you’ve hit the reason why exactly–that we take it personally when people don’t agree with us. Also, that it’s hard to keep a firm grip on the understanding that just because you’re disagreeing doesn’t mean you fundamentally don’t like and respect each other.
It’s dangerous, though, because people have such different styles of arguing, right? Suddenly people rip off their neutral polite-conversation masks and become…some kind of snarling, horned creature. So I think that’s part of the problem too. We’re not accustomed to handling emotion in conversation.
In response to another comment. See in context »I too have stuck my foot in my mouth. I’m actually waiting for the day when Dr. Martens comes out with Mint Flavored Docs.
My family and I all lean to the right when it comes to politics (and religion, for that matter), yet I still find things to argue with them about. Perhaps being pugnacious is hereditary…
By the way, where can I get a George W. Bush wall calendar?
I feel like I’ve seen them in those overstuffed souvenir shops in DC’s Union Station, but I’m sure your local copy shop could slap one together for the right price. You’d even get to pick the pictures!
In response to another comment. See in context »What’s interesting is that with such a penchant for O’Reilly, I’d think he would have been more vocal about his politics. Great post.
Thanks, David. I’ve heard some people say this is a feature of men of his generation (born in the early 20s), but in fact he didn’t say much at all, about anything! That’s part of the shock of the O’Reilly books…you’d think it would be impossible to keep a lid on politics like those.
In response to another comment. See in context »My father was deeply a- (and even anti-) religious yet his own father was the type to give money to the PTA. After a time we stopped going to sit around in my grandfather’s Jesus-themed home decor for holidays and instead brought him to our house.
While he was there, we had to say grace (we let him do it) and hide the alcohol. After he left, we typically produced a cooler full of beer and my dad would unwind with a Jack and Coke.
[Just a note, I'm obviously talking about when everyone was college-age or older--the kids weren't drinking beer back when we still believed in Santa.]
Thanks for this sweet story. Guess you can have it both ways if you’re willing to humor the minority party…
In response to another comment. See in context »The only thing my family fights about is family stuff. Who wronged when and who’s out to steal grandma’s “fortune.” After my mom dies it got so bad that don’t really talk to her side of the family any more. But religion and politics were always the fun ones. My family loved to dissect those topics and I learned a lot about the world from that when I was a kid.