The Great Divide
Yesterday, one of my sisters called to wish me a Happy Easter and her call unsettled me. She said, in reference to the pandemic, “Aren’t you glad Mom and Dad aren’t alive to see this?” I agreed that I was, but that I was also glad they hadn’t lived to see Trump as president. Things didn’t go so well after that.
A Tale of Five Sisters
I have four sisters, all older. The oldest two (including the one who called) are politically conservative and very much influenced by their ultra conservative husbands. I don’t believe they like Trump as a person but they like his agenda. My middle sister is more middle of the road. I suspect she may have voted for Trump in the last election but I know she’s so appalled at his behavior that she won’t vote for him again. Sister number four and myself are the most liberal of the five. We were not thrilled with any of the Democrats who ran for President but will vote for Biden if he ends up being the nominee. We reason that even if he is teetering on the brink of senility as some suggest, he doesn’t think he knows everything and will defer to expert opinions when making decisions. He’s not going to “wing it" as Trump’s doing with disastrous results.
The Reasons We’re Different
My mother was a highly educated yet highly devout Catholic raised by an Irish American father who was a bookkeeper for the City of New York and an Irish immigrant mother who, prior to marriage worked in the pre-WWI garment industry. The family was pro-union and big fans of Franklin Roosevelt.
My father had been raised on a tobacco farm in Connecticut by his Polish immigrant parents. He was the first in his family to graduate from college and spent five years as an officer in WWII. He and his family did not share my mother’s Democratic ideology, partly because of their experiences in the old country and partly because they believed Roosevelt’s policies were unfair to farmers.
My parents met when they were both high school teachers and after marriage started a successful flower shop and nursery. When my sisters and I were young, they didn’t have much time to discuss politics as they were working seven days a week, raising five girls, and caring for my mother’s elderly parents, so I don’t think we were even aware until much later how they stood politically, but there were subtle clues. We knew our father valued self-reliance and our mother love, hope, and charity.
The Biggest Influence
I would say the biggest influence in shaping my sisters' and my political opinions has been our Catholicism and the issue of abortion. For some, abortion is a total dealbreaker. If a candidate is pro-choice, they won’t vote for them no matter what other admirable qualities they may possess and if a candidate is pro-life that’s all that matters. None of us is in favor of abortion but my older sisters don’t think it should be an option for anyone. The younger ones, including myself believe the government should not be involved in what is the most personal of decisions. If it’s a sin, we believe it’s between a woman and her God. It’s not the job of the US government to save souls.
Gaslit By Choice
Because of my experience within my own family, I am not optimistic that these attitudes will change once the shelter-in-place is lifted. My sisters and I are all college educated white women. My oldest sisters have led very privileged lifestyles and have not even met many disadvantaged people, let alone befriended them. It’s easy for them to ignore income inquality, they haven’t been exposed to it. At the opposite end of the spectrum is me. My lifestyle has always been fairly privileged too, but I have friends on food stamps, disability, and welfare, and known people who lost their houses. In the 2008 recession, my husband and I both lost our jobs and suffered several years of struggle and pain before we got back on our feet. We have seen what it looks like when someone has few options and nowhere to turn. We have been forced to look at some ugly truths.
I believe my older sisters, because of their rigid view on a single issue have willingly accepted the gaslighting by this administration and by the circles in which they move. It’s their comfort zone and they’ve been comfortable too long to leave willingly. They are not bad people, but in this sense, they are weak and the weak are easily led.
Why I’m Glad My Mother Isn’t Alive
My mother, in particular, would never support a man like Donald Trump. She would be unable to turn a blind eye to the lies and corruption. She believed abortion was a sin, but she knew that greater sins existed, and I don’t think she would be willing to risk our democracy on a single issue. So that is why I’m glad she’s not alive. Not because of the pandemic, not even because of Trump, but because I could not bear to see her look upon the country she so admired and the people she so loved, and see humility, compromise, and decency trampled in the name of greed, selfishness, and the pursuit of the almighty dollar.
