ince my father’s funeral six months ago, I still call my mother almost every day. We live worlds apart, geographically and ideologically, but despite me being in Europe and she in the US, and despite our religious and political differences, we still manage to keep talking. After all, she’s my mom.

This year has not been easy, having lost my job, my father and what continues to feel like my country. I worked for USAID and believed in America’s capacity to help solve global problems while helping others in need, but the current administration ended such work, calling it wasteful. Two days after that, my father passed away, and as our family gathered to mourn, we received news that my mother’s cancer had returned and spread to her bones. Such news was devastating, but doctors offered hope. Though there was no cure, there was a pill available to stem the spread, sometimes even for many years.
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Even grief couldn’t bridge our differences, though. At our family gathering, my mother confronted me about USAID, claiming that the agency funded terrorists and performed sex changes on children. Such disinformation about our actual health and development programs had taken root and was spreading.

I know I am not alone in a country of families divided by politics. In our case, my mother and most of my extended family have embraced a form of Christianity that intertwines closely with conservative politics. Some carry Patriot Bible editions with an American flag on the cover while others send their kids to school in T-shirts emblazoned with silhouettes of rifles.

. . .