This Is Why We Aren’t Friends.
We used to be friends, you and I. We hung out when we could, drinking beers and swapping old stories. Those were good times, and there were many. Year after year, celebrating birthdays and anniversaries and “hey, it’s the weekend.” We enjoyed barbecues and dinners out, spontaneous pub crawls and annual reunions. Life was good and we were great.
But that was before the differences between us became too big to ignore.
It started with Trump becoming President. For reasons I still don’t understand, you weren’t put off by his lies, his history of sexual assaults, or his years of financial mismanagement. You didn’t care that his administration was corrupt, that he supported white supremacy, or that he’s been a racist his entire life. None of that bothered you, because you were never the target of his attacks. You weren’t black, or brown, or LGBT. And as long as his behavior only impacted other people, you didn’t care.
And then came the COVID pandemic and an expectation that we would all do whatever we could to keep each other safe. I mean, the plan was simple. We would all stay home when we could, social distance when we had to go out, and wear masks to protect each other. But that wasn’t your plan at all, was it? You decided that the freedom to do whatever you wanted outweighed any of the public good, and you made sure we all knew it. You insisted on haircuts, getting your nails done, and wandering around malls. You refused to wear a mask and berated every clerk and shop worker. You ate in restaurants, partied in bars, and hopped on planes. You gathered in large groups for Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s. You chose to mock those of us who trusted the science, listened to the medical experts, and did our part to limit the exposure and spread of this disease. Yet it was your actions that have resulted in the deaths of nearly half a million Americans, the overcrowding of hospitals, and the shortage of medical equipment, supplies, and personnel to care for COVID patients. And still, you don’t care.
And there is #BlackLivesMatter. This past year, the nation collectively spoke up and said clearly that it was time to acknowledge and respond to 400 years of racism in America. But you refused to see past your privilege. You pretended that the avalanche of evidence showing disparate treatment of People of Color in the legal and judicial system didn’t exist, because admitting minorities were discriminated against by mortgage lenders and bankers, in education and healthcare, and by police officers and judges would mean having to do something about it. You complained, instead, about broken windows and burned buildings but never said a single word about the deaths of innocent Black men and women like John Crawford, Casey Goodson, Breonna Taylor, and Atatiana Jefferson. You defiantly claimed #AllLivesMatter yet couldn’t see the hypocrisy in launching a #BlueLivesMatter movement. You chose racism over fairness, bigotry over equality, and hate over human decency.
Some of you may have always been this way and I just didn’t see it. Others might have made deliberate choices over the last few years. Either way, I see you now. I know who you are. And you are not anyone I want to be around. I don’t want to hear your hateful words or racist opinions. I won’t waste another moment trying to bridge the gap, find common ground, or try to change your mind.
And I’ll admit, many of you might be able to write very similar words about finally seeing the real me and not liking who I am or what I believe. You might want to write me off as a bleeding heart liberal who hates the police or the military or America or freedom or whatever other strawman you choose. Tell yourself whatever you need to believe. You can even tell yourself that you ended our friendship long ago. Do whatever you want. I don’t wish you harm or a bad life, I just don’t want you in mine.
Now, I’ll grieve the loss of who I thought you were and then I’ll get on with my life. I’ll spend time nurturing true friendships, investing in the circle of like-minded acquaintances who have crossed my path, and continuing to evolve and grow as a better person.
But you and me? We aren’t friends. And it’s time to let you know and let you go.
