When Conversations Break Down

Yesterday, something happened that left me both stunned and sad. A conversation with someone I care about spiraled quickly into silence—cut off midstream. Phone hung up. Messages seemingly blocked.

It all started with an honest question. I mentioned plans to grill chicken with my mom. Nothing political, just family time. But the response I got was, “Oh, so you’re going to celebrate this country tomorrow?”

And that question—layered with judgment, sarcasm, maybe even pain—shifted the entire energy between us.

I wasn’t expecting that. And I’m sorry if my answer somehow offended. But to be clear, I wasn’t celebrating a country. I was spending time with my mother. I didn’t need a lecture about patriotism or protest in that moment—I needed connection.

What hurt wasn’t just the hang-up or the coldness. It was the assumption that I don’t see the flaws in this country. I do. I hate what is happening in America—its unfair systems, its violence, its hypocrisy. I ask myself often, Why am I here? That wasn’t a rhetorical question. It wasn’t meant to wound. It was honest. And I see now how asking that of someone else might have landed wrong.

But I wish we could’ve stayed in conversation a little longer. I wish we could have heard each other more fully. We’re both trying to survive a place that makes survival feel like a form of resistance.

So if you read this, know that I care. And know that I meant no harm. I may not ask that question again. But I won’t stop wondering what it means to be here, together, even in our quiet disagreements.

Be well. And I hope the rest of your week is kind to you.