“Agree to disagree.” It’s a refrain I’ve heard all too often from Donald Trump’s supporters leading up to this Election Day and most recently from a close family member. It’s meant as an innocent plea to end the divisiveness that’s festered since 2016 and has only worsened in recent weeks. Yet the folks pleading to “agree to disagree” are intent on voting for Trump despite his past hateful promises come to fruition, his inflammatory and dangerous rhetoric about anyone who isn’t just like him, and his pledge to seek vengeance on his enemies. I would have told my family member asking me to give up my principles that I, a lesbian journalist working in LGBTQ+ media, am one of those enemies. But I disagreed to disagree about my rights and safety and the rights and safety of my community and other marginalized, scapegoated communities Trump has targeted. And that was the end of their Pollyanna plea for peace.

In the time it takes to utter, “But her emails,” I was pulled into a spiral of regurgitated Fox News lies including those about migrants “murdering people,” Barack Obama and Bill Gates (I still haven’t sussed this one out), and an assertion that Kamala Harris is “stupid.” I tried to calmly explain that the vice president is highly educated, erudite, and has been the most pro-LGBTQ+ candidate in history. She helped do away with the gay and trans panic defense, I said. My family member, who loves me (I do know this), who has been supportive of my queerness since I came out in the late ’80s, and who adores a few of my gay friends, did not hear that my defense of Harris was steeped in her work with LGBTQ+ people, that it was personal. Instead, they took it personally and personally attacked me. “I’m glad you have someone you can trust more than your own family,” they said.

It took the wind out of me. I’d spent years explaining to the people who love me and my LGBTQ+ friends that they can’t do both. They can’t half-ass their support. They don’t get our art, our humor, our intellect, our compassion and empathy if they support Trump. I thought I’d made progress in explaining how Trump led to the Supreme Court that overturned Roe v. Wade and signaled that marriage equality was next. It felt as though they heard me when I spoke about the hundreds of anti-LGBTQ+ bills, the book and drag bans, and the gutless attacks on trans people who are merely trying to live happy, authentic lives.

Since the height of the pandemic, I’ve steered clear of Facebook. COVID and the 2020 election brought out conspiracy theorists and hatemongers from high school and far-flung corners of my family I meant to long-ago expunge. Call it naïveté that I’d finally curated my Facebook to a point where it wasn’t inflaming me each time I opened the app, or maybe it’s masochism. But I began to dip my toes in there in the lead-up to this election. I’ve seen plenty of friends posting the photo of someone with rainbow colors painted on their face and the caption “Don’t tell someone you love them and vote for someone who’ll hurt them.” Responses to that have been mixed, with people sea-lioning the poster to explain how they’d been hurt.

Last week I read a post from someone I attended Girl Scout camp with decades ago. Her began with a call to end divisiveness and to come together before it launched into hateful, erroneous stereotypes about men in dresses in women’s restrooms. Trump’s playbook is loaded with lies, deflection, and playing the victim and this post was all of that. When I explained to this person I’d once sung “Kumbaya” with around a campfire that the post she reshared was hateful and anti-trans, she told me she’s one of the most “tolerant” people I could meet. I didn’t respond. Sometimes I like to toss a truthbomb into the comments of smug Trump supporters and let them stew in the fact that I don’t return to argue with them. But also, I didn’t get the sense that she cares about the harm Trump has wreaked on LGBTQ+ and other marginalized communities. If I thought she cared, I would have explained that the millions he’s spent on ads attacking and dehumanizing trans people in recent weeks have real-world effects.

Since the 1980s when Ronald Reagan refused to address HIV and AIDS because it was dubbed a “gay disease” early on, I have argued that Republicans aren’t voting only on the economy or whatever nonsense they toss out. The Reagan administration’s refusal to take HIV and AIDS seriously killed people, some of them my friends. After 35 years, I’m tired of these conversations. I’ve begun cutting people out of my life, and I’m OK with it. I have a fantasy that all marginalized people affected by draconian GOP policies might one day refuse to play nice with or pretend we’re OK with those who vote against our rights and safety. My fantasy is akin to the actions by the women in Aristophanes’s Lysistrata, who refuse to have sex with their men until they stop warring.

This week I watched an undecided voter try to stump Pete Buttigieg by asking him what evidence there is that Trump is against marriage equality or LGBTQ+ people. I wish I were more like Pete. I wish I could have calmly enumerated a list of Trump’s anti-LGBTQ+ actions to my family member so they would truly hear me when I say that loving me and asking me to “agree to disagree” is asking me to, to quote Carol in Carol, “go against my grain.” Literally, it’s asking me to put their conspiracy theory-laden fears before my basic rights and safety.

If I could have gotten the words out, I would have told my family member that during Trump's first term, he expunged all of the information about LGBTQ+ people from the White House website, appointed anti-LGBTQ+ judges, allowed people to discriminate against us based on religious freedom guidances, and implemented a ban on trans people in the military. Oh, not incidentally, in the days after the 2016 election, hate incidents rose precipitously. For months now, Trump and his sycophants have perpetuated lies about trans people, insisting that schools are performing gender-affirming surgery during school hours and demonizing trans athletes. Since when does Trump care about women, let alone women’s sports? That is, except for his beef with soccer legend Megan Rapinoe, who refused to visit the White House when he was in office.

Regardless of who becomes president, once the votes are tabulated and Trump stops squealing that the election was stolen if he doesn’t win, my family member and I have work to do. Part of me is relieved knowing where they truly stand (It’s hard to navigate an invisible foe). If that relationship is slow to repair or even beyond, what they’ve underestimated is that I have family. I’ve been building that chosen, logical family of queer people and allies for decades, and we show up for each other. I know this comes from a place of privilege. I am white, middle-class, and cisgender, and I have a network of support. But here’s the thing, I will never “agree to disagree,” not for myself and not for my queer siblings who aren’t able to take the same stance.

Tracy E. Gilchrist is VP of editorial and special projects for equalpride.

Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ and Allied community. Visit pride.com/submit to learn more about submission guidelines. We welcome your thoughts and feedback on any of our stories. Email us at voices@equalpride.com. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists and editors, and do not directly represent the views of The Advocate or our parent company, equalpride.