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agonyaunt2025-05-30 10:02 am
minoanmiss) wrote in agonyaunt2025-05-30 10:02 am
Entry tags:
Dear Prudence: Politics and Relationships and Friends Groups oh my!
Actual ttitle: Help! My New Boyfriend Couldn’t Be More Different Than My Group of Friends. It Spells Trouble.
How do I manage conversations and upcoming celebrations (bachelorette parties, wedding festivities, five and 10-year reunions, etc.) with college friends who are on the more extreme end of our (shared) political leanings? We are all five to eight years out from graduating from a tiny, ultra-expensive liberal arts college in California, which both shaped our current views and provides some insight into the privilege that most (but not all) of us had to afford that kind of education at all. Under the current administration, it’s also totally understandable for us to vent about our fears (most of us are in STEM) and sorrow for the things happening in our lives, in the news, etc.
However, I’ve been feeling like the odd woman out at some of these recent get-togethers. I seriously struggled in my first Ph.D. program at a top-rated university in a big city and “mastered out” during the pandemic. Thankfully, I found a program that was a better fit at a big state school in a more rural area. I love living in my new state and am committed to starting a career and putting down roots here. But I think my experiences living in a mostly white (and in many other ways vastly less privileged) community have changed me.
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I was surprised and alarmed at the way my friends talk about certain topics: “all men suck,” “straight white people are the problem,” etc. (we are all women, mostly BIPOC, queer and allies). Some of this may be explained by 1) legitimate frustration with life in current times, and 2) finally having some girl talk after years without seeing each other. But yikes. I felt like I couldn’t speak up or even mention my (white, straight, male) partner because the tides of conversation were flowing so strongly in the other direction. At the same time, I thought (and was immediately ashamed to think), “Wow, is this what MAGA types dismiss as woke?” And of course, everyone’s rhetoric seemed to be immediately validated as we went out for drinks and dancing, and two of our party were grabbed and groped by—you guessed it—white, male strangers. I feel caught between supporting the (legitimate) concerns of the people (including myself, a woman of color, daughter of immigrants, and scientist) at risk under this administration, and the (problematic? Bigoted? Unhelpful?) urge to say, “Our rich person privilege is showing” and/or, “Poor white people are also people, and I’ve even talked to some of them.”
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Do I need a script to ease the intensity of some of these conversations? Steer us toward less fraught topics? Just nod and smile? Invitations for various celebrations of this college friend group will continue rolling in, and I am genuinely excited to catch up with everyone. However, I will absolutely be bringing White Straight Male Partner as my plus one when applicable, who had a completely different childhood and college experience compared to the rest of us, and already has a pretty dim view of the kind of conversations he might be drawn into as the only white man at the table. While he could definitely stand to be more actively feminist and anti-racist in our everyday lives, getting grilled over a fancy meal by a bunch of PhDs whose parents funded their education would not be the way. Because nowadays it DOES matter, I should clarify that he is not a Trump supporter, does not support or condone hateful beliefs, and will not accidentally nor purposefully insult anyone at these gatherings based on race, culture, or gender identity.
—Torn in Oregon
Dear Torn in Oregon,
What’s your worst fear about what will happen during these gatherings? Really sit and think about it. Is it the knot in your stomach you’ll get if your friends say something you don’t think is fair? Is it the feeling you’ll have if you don’t convince them that you’re right? Is it the judgments your boyfriend will make about these people—and maybe, by extension, you—if he has to hear comments that offend him or that he considers “woke”?
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I think all of these things are survivable. But I also think you can do better than survive. You can feel good about how you show up at events with this group of friends, even if you think every word they utter is wrong.
It starts with being really, really confident about who you are, what you believe, and who you love. Focus less on plotting out how you might change your friends’ thoughts and their conversation topics (and definitely less on how Republicans would view them). Instead, reflect on what you think and what you want to say. Not in relation to what they think and say, but just in general. What do you care about? How do you see the world? What are your priorities? What’s your take on this political moment, from your perspective as a woman of color? Do you have any fears? Are there any issues you’re particularly concerned about? If you’re not worried about yourself, are you troubled by the issues other people are facing? What policy changes or cultural changes would you like to see to create a society that you feel better about?
You also want to have answers you’re comfortable with to questions like: Is the way you’re living aligned with those beliefs? Do you think your partner shares those values? Do you think your relationship is solid enough that he can hear a hyperbolic statement about white cis men from your friends and be OK because he knows it doesn’t describe him at all? Sort this all out in your head, until you have a story about yourself, your politics, and your relationship that you feel really clear and good about. Then just show up with the peace that comes with being secure in who you are—and the awareness that being who you are might bring you closer to people who are aligned with you and farther from people who aren’t. Maybe you’ll decide you don’t feel quite as connected to these friends anymore. Maybe they’ll say something that offends your boyfriend. If that happens, it will be uncomfortable, but it will also be information about the people in your life. You’ll get to decide what to do with it.
Approach these events with clarity about where you stand and curiosity about whether you enjoy spending time with this group or whether it makes you happy to move through the world with your boyfriend—not just when it comes to his identity, but his interactions and reactions, too. Try to lose the desperation to edit the conversation in advance so that everyone appears to be on the same page. It’s possible that you’re not. If that’s the case, you’ll be fine, as long as you like yourself enough that you don’t mind being “the odd man out” once in a while.
How do I manage conversations and upcoming celebrations (bachelorette parties, wedding festivities, five and 10-year reunions, etc.) with college friends who are on the more extreme end of our (shared) political leanings? We are all five to eight years out from graduating from a tiny, ultra-expensive liberal arts college in California, which both shaped our current views and provides some insight into the privilege that most (but not all) of us had to afford that kind of education at all. Under the current administration, it’s also totally understandable for us to vent about our fears (most of us are in STEM) and sorrow for the things happening in our lives, in the news, etc.
However, I’ve been feeling like the odd woman out at some of these recent get-togethers. I seriously struggled in my first Ph.D. program at a top-rated university in a big city and “mastered out” during the pandemic. Thankfully, I found a program that was a better fit at a big state school in a more rural area. I love living in my new state and am committed to starting a career and putting down roots here. But I think my experiences living in a mostly white (and in many other ways vastly less privileged) community have changed me.
Advertisement
I was surprised and alarmed at the way my friends talk about certain topics: “all men suck,” “straight white people are the problem,” etc. (we are all women, mostly BIPOC, queer and allies). Some of this may be explained by 1) legitimate frustration with life in current times, and 2) finally having some girl talk after years without seeing each other. But yikes. I felt like I couldn’t speak up or even mention my (white, straight, male) partner because the tides of conversation were flowing so strongly in the other direction. At the same time, I thought (and was immediately ashamed to think), “Wow, is this what MAGA types dismiss as woke?” And of course, everyone’s rhetoric seemed to be immediately validated as we went out for drinks and dancing, and two of our party were grabbed and groped by—you guessed it—white, male strangers. I feel caught between supporting the (legitimate) concerns of the people (including myself, a woman of color, daughter of immigrants, and scientist) at risk under this administration, and the (problematic? Bigoted? Unhelpful?) urge to say, “Our rich person privilege is showing” and/or, “Poor white people are also people, and I’ve even talked to some of them.”
Advertisement
Do I need a script to ease the intensity of some of these conversations? Steer us toward less fraught topics? Just nod and smile? Invitations for various celebrations of this college friend group will continue rolling in, and I am genuinely excited to catch up with everyone. However, I will absolutely be bringing White Straight Male Partner as my plus one when applicable, who had a completely different childhood and college experience compared to the rest of us, and already has a pretty dim view of the kind of conversations he might be drawn into as the only white man at the table. While he could definitely stand to be more actively feminist and anti-racist in our everyday lives, getting grilled over a fancy meal by a bunch of PhDs whose parents funded their education would not be the way. Because nowadays it DOES matter, I should clarify that he is not a Trump supporter, does not support or condone hateful beliefs, and will not accidentally nor purposefully insult anyone at these gatherings based on race, culture, or gender identity.
—Torn in Oregon
Dear Torn in Oregon,
What’s your worst fear about what will happen during these gatherings? Really sit and think about it. Is it the knot in your stomach you’ll get if your friends say something you don’t think is fair? Is it the feeling you’ll have if you don’t convince them that you’re right? Is it the judgments your boyfriend will make about these people—and maybe, by extension, you—if he has to hear comments that offend him or that he considers “woke”?
Advertisement
I think all of these things are survivable. But I also think you can do better than survive. You can feel good about how you show up at events with this group of friends, even if you think every word they utter is wrong.
It starts with being really, really confident about who you are, what you believe, and who you love. Focus less on plotting out how you might change your friends’ thoughts and their conversation topics (and definitely less on how Republicans would view them). Instead, reflect on what you think and what you want to say. Not in relation to what they think and say, but just in general. What do you care about? How do you see the world? What are your priorities? What’s your take on this political moment, from your perspective as a woman of color? Do you have any fears? Are there any issues you’re particularly concerned about? If you’re not worried about yourself, are you troubled by the issues other people are facing? What policy changes or cultural changes would you like to see to create a society that you feel better about?
You also want to have answers you’re comfortable with to questions like: Is the way you’re living aligned with those beliefs? Do you think your partner shares those values? Do you think your relationship is solid enough that he can hear a hyperbolic statement about white cis men from your friends and be OK because he knows it doesn’t describe him at all? Sort this all out in your head, until you have a story about yourself, your politics, and your relationship that you feel really clear and good about. Then just show up with the peace that comes with being secure in who you are—and the awareness that being who you are might bring you closer to people who are aligned with you and farther from people who aren’t. Maybe you’ll decide you don’t feel quite as connected to these friends anymore. Maybe they’ll say something that offends your boyfriend. If that happens, it will be uncomfortable, but it will also be information about the people in your life. You’ll get to decide what to do with it.
Approach these events with clarity about where you stand and curiosity about whether you enjoy spending time with this group or whether it makes you happy to move through the world with your boyfriend—not just when it comes to his identity, but his interactions and reactions, too. Try to lose the desperation to edit the conversation in advance so that everyone appears to be on the same page. It’s possible that you’re not. If that’s the case, you’ll be fine, as long as you like yourself enough that you don’t mind being “the odd man out” once in a while.