Why I won’t be eating turkey with you this year

When I was young and you said racist and sexist things, I cringed, but had no words, no experience and no one to defend except myself. And so, like everyone else in the family, in our family, I listened, I heard and inside I crawled far back into the recesses of my mind where it was safe to be different from you. 

As I grew up, I saw other families who could be safe with each other in all the ways they were different and I longed for that but believed it wasn’t meant for me. I read books and had experiences with stories, getting to know people who wouldn’t know me, keeping myself as safe as I could. 

I went off to college with your blessing and learned of patriarchal ways and found heros in Audre Lorde and Tillie Olsen, coming home for the holidays I was excited and wanted to share what I was learning, but there was no space. No words to bridge the worlds between us. I accepted your hugs and subtle rules that we don’t talk about anything meaningful, but mean things could be said. 

This year, I am hurting and I need to be in a safe place that isn’t inside my head. You see, I’ve realized inside my head was a refuge, not a comfort. Any there are people in the world who have space for diverse ideas and conversations and people, and these are now my people. There is no solace for me in turkey and vapid conversation. 

I hope you enjoy your turkey and mashed potatoes and gloating over your new president elect. I hope you all feel safe both inside your heads and around the table, where only certain things can be said. I don’t want to hear or condone mean things being said anymore and I’m too tired to enter into conversation with you; to try to tell you it’s not ok. You’ve never listened and the silence is deafening.