I usually save my book reviews for Instagram, but every now and then comes one that turns you into the author’s personal evangelist. Recently, that book is No Contact by Noelle Mering. It’s affected me deeply because the subject matter is intensely personal. I’ve been the one to go “no contact” with close friends, and I’ve had people do it to me.
First, there were Jewish relatives that stopped speaking to me when I became a Christian. Over a decade later, we’re on much better terms now – they attended my wedding, and sent gifts for the births of my children – but we’ll likely never be close.
Then there were close friends dating back to elementary school that I cut off when they revealed they were voting for Donald Trump in 2016. These were friends who, given our long history, deserved more benefit of the doubt as to their reasons why. I think about them a lot now that I’m Catholic, because they had a profound influence on me.
What motivated me to do something so drastic was more than just a difference in politics. You have to understand that the comparisons between Trump and Hitler were alarming to a Jew-ish person who is already primed to expect another Holocaust (I wish I were exaggerating). Therefore a vote for Trump felt like a threat to my very existence. “If you voted for him, unfriend me now” seemed entirely reasonable at the time.
That’s the backstory that led me to pick this book up in the first place. Now, on to the book itself.
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“What presents itself as freedom for the individual increasingly requires submission from everyone else, and many relationships are broken in the process.” This quote from Mering lingered in my mind for days.
From getting the Covid vaccine, to voting for president, to using a new name and pronouns, the people making such demands don’t see themselves as totalitarian. On the contrary, they are acting on “the right side of history.” In their eyes, anyone who does not comply in the “right” way is selfish or outright bigoted, and therefore must be shunned.
“Nuance” has become a dirty word in some circles that seems to suggest a mushy middle ground lacking in real principle. But sometimes it’s actually necessary.
It took me years to understand that…
Some people refused the Covid vaccine because it was too hurriedly pushed onto the market, not because they hate the medically vulnerable.
Some people voted for Trump not because they liked or respected him, but because they couldn’t justify voting for a party that went from “safe, legal, and rare” on abortion to on demand (this was the case for my Catholic friends from childhood). They voted based on policy; not because they hate Jews and other minorities.
And some people can’t honor the request for new pronouns because it requires enabling a lie. It’s biologically impossible to change one’s sex, and “gender affirming care” actually does more harm than good. That does not equal hatred for those experiencing gender dysphoria.
Of course, one is free to disagree with these rationales. But a society that can’t handle discussions about differences is an unhealthy society, and ours seems to get sicker year after year.
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It’s now countercultural to love people without affirming every one of their choices. Disagreement in itself is not hatred or violence. Some families that Mering interviewed managed to keep the door open to relationships simply by responding with curiosity rather than outrage. Asking questions like “How long have you felt this way?” can be a good start.
Other families she talked to have separate text threads: one that’s light, full of memes and photos and updates about the kids, and another devoted to politics. That leaves people free to dip in and contribute as much as they have bandwidth to do so, and opt out just as easily.
In my family, there are some subjects we’ve agreed not to discuss, knowing it won’t be productive. This is hard for me, but it’s a boundary I respect because my relationships are too valuable to sacrifice on the altar of moral superiority.
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Compromises are well and good, but the fact remains that politics are never “just politics.” Policies have impact on real people’s lives. I have one friend directly affected by Trump’s harsh immigration laws, which forced her young family to separate in different countries. This happened despite her husband coming to America legally and seeking citizenship “the right way.”
For this friend, there’s no question that a vote for Trump feels like a personal attack against her. What can we possibly say to that? Arguing for nuance doesn’t change the fact that she’s forced to solo parent her two children for an unspecified amount of time as her husband works with an attorney to return home.
No book can solve that awful dilemma. I imagine that most people struggling to maintain their relationships aren’t doing so in such extreme circumstances. More common is the conservative uncle you may be dreading to see at the Thanksgiving dinner table, or the son who now claims to be a daughter, blindsiding parents and siblings.
This book is more than a critique, but also a call to action, and I can’t recommend it enough.