This morning was just like any typical Sunday; go to mass and visit my dad. Two of my brother’s also were visiting my dad today and our visit started off how it usually does, but quickly took a less than pleasant turn when one of my brother’s started to bring up politics. My family is split, half of us are democrats and half republican. My father is a democrat and so was everyone in his family. The topic of the March for Our Lives was brought up by my brother and I quickly requested we not talk about politics because he and my father disagree and I just wanted a coffee and donut centered visit today.
Of course he did not oblige and the conversation quickly turned contentious. I’ll spare you the details of our contention, but what I will say is that more than ever I value being heard. The more I was not being heard, the more I was ignored, the more I was challenged by the sheer amount of over-talking my brother’s did, the more I wanted to leave. I didn’t even want to fight to have my voice heard because it seemed nearly impossible.
I rarely feel this way in my day to day life, so dismissed and so unheard. I am a little embarrassed that my own brother’s made me feel that way, but in the end I think it helped me reflect on people whose voices are never heard, who are never seen, and who always feel dismissed. This blip in my family dynamic is not something I typically have to overcome, but for so many, it is. I fought the urge to leave; that’s sort of my thing, if I don’t have to deal with it, I don’t. I was proud to have my father’s support and was thinking how proud my mom would be that I inspite of their best efforts to overrun my words with theirs, that I didn’t back down and made sure, one way or the other, my thoughts, my beliefs, and my words were heard today.