How Politics Makes Us Lonely

Polarization, Identity, and Belonging

It starts subtly. A friend says something offhand about "those people," and you feel your stomach tighten. Or you bite your tongue at the Thanksgiving dinner, promising yourself you will never do another one with your family, who seem to be living in the opposite political universe than all the sane people you know. Or maybe you scroll through your social media feed and realize, again, that it feels like people are either yelling, lecturing, pretending to care, or posting mendacious memes. When did politics stop being something we discussed and become something we defend like a fortress? And what happens when everyone's behind a wall, but not necessarily behind "our wall"?

My 80-year-old uncle is a retired high-ranking naval officer in Bulgaria. In his early days, he was somehow directly under Russian command and spent many years stationed in St. Petersburg. My aunt joined him there, too. He's never cut the umbilical cord with "The Motherland," even though it's not his actual place of origin.

Last year, I joined him and my merchant marine cousin on what was supposed to be a fun mini family reunion.

My cousin criss-crosses oceans multiple times a year, and in the entire 30+ years I've lived in the US, we only managed to hang out on a handful of occasions, two of which were half-days in Long Beach, CA. His contracts mostly put him on ships moving cargo for companies somehow associated with the Chinese goods trade. He spends almost all of his time at sea with Chinese nationals and has visited nearly every Chinese port.

I intended to spend a long weekend with my uncle, aunt, and cousin, bumming around a very charming, historical area in Bulgaria, hitting two birds with one stone – reconnecting with my family, and visiting a place I've never been to before.

I left after breakfast on day two. My mom said, "I told you so!"