Election season has come and gone, and it seems our country is more divided than ever. As a writer, I’ve often kept my distance from politics, hoping that staying neutral would serve me best. But this year, watching the results unfold, I feel an urge to share my perspective—even if only to make sense of it. Silence might be the “safe” route, but lately, I wonder if avoiding these conversations is actually part of the problem. Reflecting on the recent election, it strikes me that many people didn’t necessarily vote for Trump; they voted against a side that feels, at times, intolerant. I hear it echoed again and again: a frustration with what some perceive as the “intolerant left.” People are weary of an “if you don’t agree with me, then you’re my enemy” mentality that sometimes emerges from those who claim tolerance as a core value. If we can’t see that intolerance exists on our side, then maybe we’re missing an important point, and maybe we’ll keep losing because of it.
Recently, I had a conversation with a friend about a divisive topic. She shared her strong views, and I found myself questioning certain aspects, not fully agreeing or disagreeing but wanting to understand more. My questions alone seemed to surprise her, and the fact that I didn’t immediately align with her perspective created tension between us. She even seemed shocked, as if my differing view on one topic somehow meant I wasn’t the person she thought I was.
Growing up in Massachusetts, my household was as politically intense as they come. My mother was fiercely liberal, and my father was a proud Teamster Democrat. Our home’s walls displayed the Kennedy brothers, and Ronald Reagan’s name was almost taboo. In my thirties, I was just as strong in my opinions and felt sure my views were right. I didn’t just expect my friends to agree with me—I assumed they would. Looking back, I can see how that rigidity and certainty sometimes pushed people away or shut down real conversations. It took time, but I eventually learned that meaningful change doesn’t happen when we push our beliefs on others.
In my twenties, I became a vegetarian after reading about factory farming and was determined to “enlighten” everyone around me. I posted about it constantly, often aggressively, but instead of inspiring change, I mostly alienated people. A turning point for me came unexpectedly while browsing online for a bracelet. I found a beautiful piece from a small shop in the Faroe Islands. When I learned the bracelet was made of seal skin, I messaged the shop owner, expressing my disapproval. Unsurprisingly, she defended herself, explaining how seal skin was a traditional material in her culture. Here I was, an outsider passing judgment on her livelihood without understanding her context. In that moment, I realized I’d approached her with condemnation rather than compassion. I apologized, shared my perspective on animal welfare without the intensity I’d previously used, and, to my surprise, we ended up having a thoughtful exchange. She understood where I was coming from, and I came to understand her world a bit more, too. By the end of our conversation, she was even considering offering a vegan option in her shop.
This experience reminded me of something important: we achieve nothing by shutting others down or forcing our views onto them. This election season has taught me that if we want to bridge divides, we have to move beyond the rigid certainties that leave no room for discussion. Real change, whether in politics or personal beliefs, begins when we create space to listen and understand each other. It’s not about abandoning our values but about recognizing that the world is nuanced, and we all bring different experiences to the table. If each of us tried a little harder to listen without judgment, we might begin to heal some of these fractures in our society. I don’t have all the answers, but I know I’ll keep learning and listening, even when it feels uncomfortable. And maybe, in our own lives, that’s how we begin to build something better—one conversation at a time.
This month’s book recommendation I am recommending North Shore author Kristen Czarnecki’s memoir Encounters with Inscriptions: A Memoir Exploring Books Gifted by Parents.
When Kristin Czarnecki lost both her parents within nine months, she sought solace in books, but not just any books.
In Encounters with Inscriptions, Czarnecki writes about the books inscribed and given to her by her parents over the years—an array of novels, short stories, poetry, nature writing, cultural criticism, and a cookbook. As she explores each book, Czarnecki focuses not only on loss but also on the complexities of childhood, on family and friendship, and on the rewards of a life spent reading. She recalls falling in love with poetry for the first time, realizes how the Troubles in Northern Ireland shadowed her adolescence, reflects on the legacy of her mother’s feminism, and comes to know her father better while reading an author he loved. Throughout, she communes with her parents once again in the books they wanted her to have. Czarnecki’s beautifully written, wide-ranging memoir will appeal to fans of books about books, those mourning lost loved ones, and anyone intrigued by the power of literature to inspire, confound, soothe, and surprise us.
Thank you for your perspective on handling our political climate. When Hilary lost, I was devasted, and wondered how anyone could be so stupid, ignorant and deplorable to vote for him. I come from a liberal mother and a republican father. No wonder they got divorced. I grew up surrounded by republicans, but never thought to much about it. They were my family. I could dislike them for reasons other than political. LOL. But back to Hilary. I knew that some of my family had voted for the other side, those people I hated. But I couldn’t hate these people in my family that had done this. They are people I truly love. Thats when I realized each to his own. Some days are harder than others, however.