Please Don’t Friend Me
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Do it for our relationship. Because we care about each other. Do it to maintain the comfortable illusion we have that we think the same way.
Once a month a close relative and I email to get caught up. She and I are 17 years apart, and very different in many ways, but also similar. We love dogs, travel, nature, laughing, wine.
Last year she casually asked if my daughter Taylor had a boyfriend. I suspected she knew the answer.
I’d been waiting, worried, because her conservative religion isn’t remotely LGBTQ friendly.
I also knew I’d come out punching if she said anything remotely bigoted, although I was 98% sure she wouldn’t. It’s not her way. Her heart is big, even if our politics and religion are continents apart.
So we don’t discuss that stuff, although she does use lots of God language in her emails, which is fine because she never tries to convert me.
And seriously, I don’t mind a little “I’ll pray God guides and watches over you,” sprinkled in. It’s her love language, it’s just not mine.
So I wrote back that Taylor has a serious girlfriend who we like a lot, and that Taylor is bisexual. I added, “My husband and I are happy she’s happy.”
This relative is warm, kind, well-educated and super evangelical. Her response to learning about my daughter was two sentences: “I’m happy Taylor is happy. I’ll pray God’s will for her as I do all my loved ones.”
Praying “God’s will” about sexual orientation isn’t great. I wasn’t thrilled with the implication. God’s will? My daughter has her own will, thank you very much. And it includes being who she is.
But okay, the phrase is vague enough to keep the peace. And I want that with her. Peace. I’ve had way to much family drama in my life ten times over.
So I wrote back with my latest chatty news. Then about Taylor I said, “Thanks. Her dad and I are proud of who she is, always have been.”
She hasn’t brought up the topic since. Silence is better than judgment. I’ll take it.
But what upset me besides the “God’s will” comment is that I’d written several sentences describing exactly what my husband and I like about Taylor’s girlfriend.
I gushed that’s she’s “warm, thoughtful, smart, funny, hard working, and that Taylor loves her parents.” I said we’d spent a good deal of time with her girlfriend and that she’s a wonderful responsible young lady.
You can bet if I described a boyfriend in such glowing terms she’d probably give a giddy heteronormative high five with loads of “Wow, he sounds amazing! So many great qualities! I bet you’re thrilled she found such a great guy! He sounds perfect! What kinds of things do they enjoy doing together?”
Thank God my relative isn’t on Facebook. My social commentary views are strong, frequent, unapologetic and full of biting sarcasm about bigotry.
But I’m sure she knows my views regardless, because her daughter and I are Facebook friends. We have a great relationship.
Her daughter has “liked” some of my scathing anti LGBTQ and anti choice rants. Most of the other relatives on Facebook in this family only like my dog, date night and vacation photos and inspirational quotes. The safe topics.
There’s a good chance if someone friends me they’ll become instantly disillusioned. It’s how I feel when I learn someone I really like, loves the “other presidential candidate.” Maybe the friend made a random comment, or I saw their bumper sticker.
I feel sick. I genuinely grieve.
Because all of sudden our common interests, like dogs, restaurants, biking, Mediterranean food, travel, Barbara Kingsolver novels, mean less because this person I care about likes “that guy.”
And I bet that person feels the same way about me. There’s no way around it. The curtain has been pulled back.
Years ago I met this sweet gentle lady in her mid-80s at our YMCA. Roberta and I were on a committee together and I grew to care about her a lot. Every time I walked into the gym she’d get this big beautiful smile on her face. We briefly chat before my class while she leaned on her walker.
And then a few years ago she unexpectedly friended me. Of course I accepted.
When I ran into her the next time she said, “Nice to see you in person! I see you on Facebook a lot! How’s that adorable pug of yours?” Since most of my posts are political, and she’s never liked or commented on those, it’s clear we’re not on the same page.
So we stick to talking about dogs, mutual friends and health. We stay in a bubble of friendly safe chit-chat. Because if we didn’t we both know what would happen. We’d wave, smile but avoid each other.
When someone says they want to friend me I tell them that it’s not a good idea. 100% of the time the person laughs because they think I’m joking. I tell them “Trust me on this. I’m intensely political. Don’t do it.”
Their face drops, they pause and look confused, so to be polite they insist, “Oh it’s fine, that doesn’t bother me!” So I tell them to go ahead and friend me, but if they ever want to unfriend, I won’t take it personally. And I mean it. I’ve only unfriended two people, but a least a handful have left me. No hard feelings.
A while back I had this casual Facebook friend who follows QAnon and believes that Hillary Clinton started a chain of pizza restaurants as a cover for child sex-trafficking. And that the Democrats formed a cabal set on world-wide takeover.
The woman unfriended me, which is just as well. We don’t share the same brain bank.
My views on Facebook probably make people who friend me, people I’ve known for years at my gym and in my heavy American flag-waving neighborhood uncomfortable (I respect the American flag, but now it’s a dog whistle).
These neighbors and I chatted for years about our dogs and the weather, lawn droughts, HOA craziness, health concerns, then bam, they friend me, take one look at my string of posts and probably think, holy hell, she’s not the person I thought she was. Traitor.
A few months ago a woman I’d never met, someone friends with one of my friends, (my page is public) commented on a post I made. I wrote something about how I don’t want people proselytizing at me online or in the street.
I said I’m a former Methodist now Unitarian Universalist, so as a UU I’m already likely to burn in hell (smirk emoji, prayer hands, heart emoji) “so I’m all set, thanks.”
Somewhere along the way in this thread, LGBTQ people came up. The friend of the friend commented that we used to be neighbors, then she told me her views on God and “homosexuals.”
Buckle in for this…
“Laura, God hates people who bully homosexuals! God loves homosexuals! He really does! (smiley face). But they must align with Christ, become heterosexual and not have homosexual sex.” Smiley face.
I responded in my usual way on this topic. Respectful but pointed, with a great deal of guilt and sarcasm.
“My daughter and many of my loved ones are in the LGBTQ community. Your views are not remotely Chris-like. And since you stated your views, I should tell you that my God and sacred text say that heterosexuals, black people and people with blue eyes, while we LOVE them, can’t marry or join the clergy. And they can’t attend or teach at our religious schools. How does that sit with you?”
She never answered.
As a preemptive strike to avoid awkward conversations with friends and fighting with a distant relative, I’ve posted on Facebook a few times:
Dear Facebook loved ones,
If you feel the LGBTQ community is an abomination, or if you’re “fine” with them “as long as they don’t get married, join the clergy, or ‘shove it in our face,’” I ask you, please don’t let me know, or we’re no longer friends. Harsh, but what I feel for my daughter outranks our relationship.
No response.
More than likely I wouldn’t end our relationship. It’s just tough talk. But I would debate them into exhaustion about God and gays. And if nothing else I’d let them know to keep their bigotry out of my ear and off my page.
Since 2016 some people silently unfriended me. I appreciate that they did it quietly. No ugliness or drama. I just searched their name and we were no longer friends online. Online relationship: dissolved.
For some reason my religious Facebook friend who thinks “homosexuals are fine as long as they don’t have homosexual sex…..” didn’t unfriend me. I never got mean. She never got mean. I just gave her my “Well my sacred text says……” sarcastic spiel.
Prior, she’d quoted long paragraphs of flowery Scripture. The Lord this, the Lord that, to convince me that she and God really really love LGBTQ folks. Really.
I’m thinking maybe she didn’t unfriend me because she hopes to one day bring me to her version of Jesus.
We’ve never met in person but I hear she’s genuinely a nice person. Oozes sweetness. And I could tell by her prolific use of smiley faces and hearts that she sincerely believes her homophobic views aren’t harmful, rather they’re enlightening and obedient to the Almighty.
Still, it’s hard for me to reconcile a good heart with bad thinking. For me, a good heart should eventually change bad thinking.
I had nothing invested in this woman, so knowing her views wasn’t disappointing. Mind-blowing and infuriating, but not disappointing.
But with loved ones or even acquaintances I’ve come to admire, once we rip open the curtain and Oz emerges, it’s never the same. We pretend. We smile. We avoid the conversation.
Because we know with one single word or phrase: “MAGA, Biden, LGBTQ, Putin, immigration, woke, Fox, MSNBC, diversity, brainwashed, rigged, cult, insurrection, witch hunt, voter fraud,” that we’re in different corners.
The love remains but the respect dies. But to keep our relationship intact and be gracious we pretend we still see each other the same way. We go on to act as if nothing’s changed between us. But it has. Forever.
