Letter to My Family

 This email has already been sent, but I want to record this for posterity.

Hello family!

I have a favor to ask of you.  I try not to get into "political discussions" with y'all as it's too upsetting, but now I have to ask for a favor.

If you plan on voting for the person currently in the Oval Office, whether for the first or second time, come November, please, please, please, do me a favor and delete my contact info from all of your sources.  I can no longer in good conscience remain in contact with people who vote to actively hurt me.

I won't be entertaining replies to this email, as I have no desire to discuss my humanity as some "political debate."  As I said to my father (one of the last things I said to him, actually), these are not abstract political ideas that I have the privilege of debating at a distance; they are very real, concrete items that affect and impact my everyday life.

I'm also not trying to change anyone's mind as I imagine we've all pretty much decided what we're going to do.  If you're unable to see the irreparable harm being done to me and the hundreds of thousands of people just like me -- women, women with uteruses, women who've been sexually assaulted, LGBTQ people -- then it's just willful ignorance at this point, and nothing I say will make a difference.

If you're not planning on voting for the person currently occupying the Oval Office, whether for the first or second time, THANK YOU!  And I'll see you on the other side of this election.

To everyone else, thank you in advance for doing me this favor.  And bonne chance in this dystopian hellscape you've helped to create.

Your daughter/niece/cousin/token feminist and queer person,

Only my mother has replied (even though it said I won't be entertaining replies) because she often feels like rules don't apply to her.  Her first response was to say "very nicely worded."  And her second was to tell me that "voting is a private matter" and that I "need to toughen up more."

In other news, no need to drive up to Iowa for Christmas.  Or ever.