My mother always told me to keep quiet but I have found my voice thanks to AOC and Trump

As the 45th president continues to fracture the United States and kill us with his ineptitude, I feel like I have no choice but to choose action over apathy

When I heard Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez speak out against Florida GOP Representative Ted Yoho, I felt nothing but admiration for her eloquence and grace in response to him calling her “disgusting” and a “f***ing bitch.”

When Ocasio-Cortez said, “I have to show my parents that I am their daughter and that they did not raise me to accept abuse from men”, I felt a rise in my gut because Donald Trump has been abusing this country for almost four years. If there was ever a time to keep quiet, this is not it.

Three generations of Irish-Catholic New Yorkers preceded me. My grandfather and great-grandfather were bar owners and for the sake of business, they mastered the skill of diplomacy. My grandmother and mother were born at opposite ends of the Silent Generation, and they exemplified it.

My mother taught me to be polite and not to voice our opinions - keeping the peace was the objective. I wondered where the line was, but as a kid I didn’t dare argue.

My family is small - my grandfather, my mother, and I are all only children - but my grandmother was one of five, and her brother married into a family that spawned a clan of loudmouths. The cousins were much older than me, but we spent holidays with them starting when I was a teenager.

I can still feel my mother’s hand squeezing mine at family gatherings, her eyes begging me not to challenge anyone at the table. A finger to the lips, a slow sway of the head, her knee pressing into mine – each gesture saying, “keep your mouth shut.”

Back in the car, I’d erupt. I didn’t understand why some people could say whatever they wanted, while other people- namely, me – had to swallow their opinions and nod politely with their stomach in knots. “It’s not worth the aggravation,” my mother would say. “Just be the bigger person and let it go.”

Throughout high school, I struggled with writing assignments because I didn’t understand the point of repeating what the teacher said. I inserted opinions into my papers, losing points for every first-person singular thought.

At my liberal arts college, I broke free from the chains of expository essays and found that my opinions had merit. I learned to respect multi-faceted viewpoints and developed a tolerance for sitting with the uncomfortable feeling of having my beliefs challenged. The result was mental flexibility, self-awareness, and a moral compass that felt calibrated but not rigid.

What seemed like an asset in the collegiate setting felt like a liability in the real world and the workplace, so I left the bulk of my conviction on campus. For almost 20 years I sugar coated my opinions and was mindful of my audience, but while caring for my grandmother with dementia, I found my voice and wrote about the experience on my blog.

My grandmother’s brother told my mother to stop me. Uncomfortable with the truth, he felt betrayed when I shared details about their childhood poverty or alcoholic, gambling father. I wasn’t expecting it, but my mother stood up for me. “I’m not going to stop her,” she said, “She’s saying everything I’m not brave enough to say.”

Last week, inspired by Ocasio-Cortez, I posted on Facebook that I’m ending relationships with anyone who supports Trump’s re-election. Although I wish I’d made this decision sooner, it wasn’t one I made lightly. As the 45th president continues to fracture the United States and kill us with his ineptitude, I feel like I have no choice but to choose action over apathy.

I’m now 46-years old, living in California, and over the past three decades I’ve only seen my cousins a handful of times. It’s no secret that their faction of the family is conservative, but until now I’ve respected our differences. I didn’t even consider breaking ties with them over GOP candidates like Mitt Romney or John McCain, but this is different. This isn’t about politics so much as it’s about decency.

The cousins attacked me for not being open-minded, and their arguments were typical for Trumpists in that they believe in freedom, the constitution, low taxes, and abortion. Other arguments were less inspired.

They said “debate is what makes this country great,” but they didn’t actually debate anything, and they said, “family over politics,” then pulled a Ted Yoho and called me a bitch and a disgrace, telling me my grandmother would be disappointed. (She would be, but not in me.)

I may have studied liberal arts, but I also believe in science and morality. I risked disappointing my mother by speaking out and further dividing our family, but it didn’t go that way. My mother and I agree that we’d rather have an honest conversation at a table for two than choke on our pride around a table of hypocrites.