Hey, nice lady...why did you vote for Trump?

The conversation I wish I could have.

Dear nice lady,

You were so kind to me that warm October day, when I walked up your very long country driveway at the end of a lonely dirt road in rural Eaton County. “Oh, hi,” I said. “I’m out canvassing for the Democrats today. How are you doing?” And you were so nice! You were so encouraging and enthusiastic that I was out door knocking for Harris and Walz. “But I’ve already sent my ballot in,” you said.

“I know it’s private,” I said, “but would you mind telling me who you voted for?”

“Oh, Trump and Vance. But I think what you are doing is just great. People should be more involved like you are. You keep it up!”

I thanked you for your time and walked back down that looooong driveway. I didn’t engage with you, because they tell us not to waste our time on Trump supporters, but to focus on the undecided voters.

But you were so nice. Standing there on your tidy redwood deck, with the last of the season’s flowers blooming in terracotta pots, and a big smile on your face, you looked like someone I could talk to.

And now I wish I could. I wish I could sit across from you with a cup of tea. I would look into your kind eyes and ask you, “why?” What America were you supporting when you cast your ballot? What world are you hoping to live in? Why would Donald Trump be the one who would embody your hopes and dreams for this country?

I don’t have to list all the reasons he does not embody my hopes and dreams for America. The threat to the bodies of the vulnerable — women, trans folk, immigrants and refugees—is reason enough. The assemblage of billionaires nominated for powerful roles in his government is reason enough. His lack of moral character, his lies, his treatment of women, his self-aggrandizement and shady business life…well, that’s plenty of reasons enough. There are more reasons, but I don’t want to argue with you, nice lady.

I want to talk WITH you, not AT you. I want to listen to what you have to say. Because I refuse to accept that the 48 percent of voting Americans who backed Trump are evil demons condemned to hell. I believe in God’s all-encompassing love for every person, including me, including you, including Mr. Trump. And so I have to acknowledge and honor our shared humanity. I want to know what would happen if two human beings like you and like me sat down together peacefully to talk about what unites them and what divides them.

Which leaves me with my question: why did you do it, nice lady?

Are our visions of America so different? When I say “liberty and justice for all,” I mean ALL, and generally I mostly mean those who have not really experienced a lot of liberty and justice in our history, the ones who need a break, and a boost, and to have the moral arc of justice bend their way for a change. When you say ALL, nice lady, who do you mean? Are you worried that some are going to lose their advantages if others find a place at the table? What are you afraid of? What are you proud of? Is there anything at all we might agree on?

I was at a Michigan State basketball game the other day, and they honored a World War II veteran at the singing of the anthem. He was 100 years old…there are so few of them left any more, those brave boys who beat the fascists. He had been injured in battle, then later was a German POW. He risked everything for this country, and it almost cost him everything.

He loved America that much. I do, too, nice lady. I also love America, and freedom, and the rights enshrined in our Constitution—enough to fight the fascists to the death to preserve them. Maybe you do, too. Then why is it so different for us?

I imagine us there in your living room with our cups of tea, talking about America on a winter afternoon. I know there is a lot we won’t agree on, and we might just be like two princesses trapped in separate towers, hollering our opinions across a vast divide, but never able to get close to one another.

Or maybe our conversation could be more like a Venn diagram. Our circles of conviction and hope and patriotism must overlap somewhere. I wish we could find that overlapping place, some spot where we both could stand and salute the flag and sing the anthem and shed a couple of tears for that brave 100-year-old veteran and all he did for us.

Thanks for being nice to me that day I came up your driveway. I wish I understood your vote. It makes no sense to me at all. But your kindness to me on that day does give me hope. Perhaps the tattered fabric of our democracy might not yet shred entirely, if we can at least try to connect in kindness.

Peace,

Your Democratic Doorknocker