Brother and sister caught in the harsh political divide … with their aunt pondering Thanksgiving dinner

By Mary Kay Roth

My niece, Holly, and my nephew, John – sister and brother – both attend the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and both want to be lawyers someday.

They both went to school at Hill Elementary, Scott Middle and Lincoln Southwest High School.

They are loved by their parents: My brother, Brad, and their mom.

They grew up in the same house in south Lincoln, played in the same backyard, watched the same TV shows, adored their yellow lab, Buckles. They shared vacations and recognized mutual rites of passage. Their parents  are divorced now, nonetheless, everyone got along.  

And yet, perplexingly, the paths of Holly and John have divided.

Dramatically.

Holly sees herself as an extremely liberal young woman, volunteers for Planned Parenthood, is exploring the concept of paganism and says women’s studies have opened her world.

John is a born-again Christian immersed in Young Republicans, believes there is no such thing as white male privilege and supports the president with a vengeance.

I love these two young people so much.  I’ve watched them grow up. 

But alas the dilemma of the American family these days, two relatives with so much common ground - yet see the world so spectacularly differently. How do you bring a country together when you can’t even bring a brother and sister together?  

I’m dumbfounded.

Until recently John and Holly managed to avoid a heady list of potentially volatile topics. John would often argue with his dad, who is more liberal. Holly would joust with her mom. Nonetheless, brother and sister have carefully tap danced around hot button issues.

Then the death of Charlie Kirk shattered the fragile peace. There were Facebook posts, angry responses and promises – from brother and sister – of no more shared holidays, no turkey, no presents.

They’re not alone, of course. In this explosive season of polarization, the political divide has created an epidemic of strained family bonds. Significant ruptures between parents and kids. Spouses. Brothers and sisters.

An estimated one in five Americans now find themselves anguishing over some shape of family estrangement.  

Perhaps the upcoming season of Thanksgiving has made this hurt even more. But I just couldn’t resist. I had this brilliant idea to bring Holly and John together to talk.

I imagined kumbaya and magic.  I didn’t get either.  Yet somehow, perhaps, there are lessons to be gleaned here.

After all, it started so well.  Arriving at my house for fast food and conversation, the two sibs sat far apart with obvious tension – but quickly started laughing over shared memories.  When they were young, they would often stay at my house while their parents went on vacation. We had slumber parties in front of my fireplace, laughed at all my chimes, played games, ate ugly face sandwiches. 

So, taking advantage of the happy mood, I asked what they liked about one another.

Holly: “He’s good to his dog. He gets good grades. He has really nice hair.”

John: “She’s nice to her cats.  She’s fun to party with.” 

I asked if they could name areas they agreed upon and, surprisingly, the list was not short.  They hold similar views on legalizing marijuana, the benefit of vaccinations and the fallacy of Trump’s approach to tariffs.  They’re in the same ballpark over gun control and even secure borders.

Then we ventured into trickier realms: Religion. Women’s rights and health issues. Affirmative action.  Male privilege. Donald Trump.

The atmosphere changed.

John: “Women’s studies are stupid.”

Holly: “The concept of ‘poor men’ is ridiculous.”

So, I borrowed a question someone suggested might ease the tension: “Tell me a story that helps me understand how you came to believe what you believe.”

John explained he was a strong Democrat in his early teens, standing in line for four hours to hear Bernie Sanders.  

But he says he grew increasingly weary of what he called the Democrats’ victim mentality. “Men are more privileged?  That’s nonsense. I think the Democratic party loses a lot of young men because they offer no good perspective of young, healthy masculinity.”

Gradually he was drawn to more libertarian leanings, eventually registered as a Republican and started listening to conservative radio commentators like Ben Shapiro and Steven Crowder.

John says school vouchers can help black people, does not believe in affirmative action and scoffs at any male/female wage gap. 

“Democrats say the system is sexist, racist, unfair, but they end up fear-mongering and blaming instead of offering any accountability or tangible solutions.”

Holly, meanwhile, called herself a Republican in middle school just to annoy her dad, and frankly didn’t pay much attention to politics through high school.

By the time she voted the first time, however, she had landed firmly in the Democrat camp and despised Trump.  

In her college years she has leaned deeper into women’s issues and women’s rights. “I began to realize this was a political system built by men for men … When we studied women’s rights through history, I started realizing how strong women have been consistently punished and torn down by men.”

In these past few years Holly has become fierce about having control over her own body, confused over the subservience she sees in so many conservative women.  These days she’s even exploring the notion of pagan beliefs.  “I’m tired of the way this zealous brand of Christianity has been whitewashing history.” 

Meanwhile, I was the bystander on this fall afternoon, watching two siblings talk through their remarkable differences – trying my best to stay neutral – and, in fact, growing increasingly amazed these two had managed to find any middle ground. 

“What do you need from one another right now?”

Holly: “An apology.”

John: “An apology.”

“I love my brother, but I believe he is being disrespectful and hurtful,” Holly said.

John responded: “Forgiveness is a good thing, but standing on your principles, that’s also a really big thing.”

OK, so this isn't exactly like two brothers who fought on different sides of the Civil War. 

But it still feels awful when such division happens in your own home, in your own family.  And we never found our way back to solid ground that afternoon at my house. 

“Do you miss one another?” I asked.

Holly: “I don’t miss having to defend myself, defend women’s rights.”

John: “I don’t miss attacks on my character.” 

I was left heartbroken.  These are two smart young people who are passionate about what they believe.  They love one another. Once upon a time they leaned on each other, asked for sibling advice. They have celebrated life’s milestones and have supported one another through life’s challenges. 

But on that fateful day at my house, John and Holly finished their sandwiches, hugged me goodbye – and refused to let me take their photo together.   

The photos posted with this blog come from earlier times – and as I looked upon the affection displayed in these lovely images, I was left wondering how in the heck to end my blog.  

I do have one epilogue.

Both sister and brother texted me later to thank me for dinner and say they loved me.

Holly later reported that John had called her.  I’m not sure there were mutual apologies, but I like to believe facing one another, talking to one another, offered at least a glimmer of hope.

Not exactly kumbaya. 

But I adore them both, and I know they love one another.

So, I’ll hang onto that much as I ponder how many people will be sitting around my Thanksgiving table later this month.