How I learned to love touchy political discussions at the family table

A few days ago, I was visiting my 91-year-old grandmother who lives an hour away from me, in the north of Berlin. She is no longer physically well, but mentally very fit and interested in the world. 

My grandparents enjoying their garden. Painted by my mother

We love talking to each other. One of our favorite topics to chat about is politics. Last weekend, she was sitting in her favorite armchair in my grandpa’s room, I sat across from her on the foot rest. Surrounded by artworks and books, it was a cozy setting for what turned out to be a very cozy conversation. 

A cozy conversation on where she could express her confusion about LGBTQIA+ identities, a topic she encounters in the news. And where I had the opportunity to explain to her some of the nuances around sex assigned at birth, gender identity and sexual preferences. All within an atmosphere of friendly curiosity, understanding and mutual respect. Where we could compare notes on how these topics were understood in her youth as opposed to how we understand them today. 

10 years ago, this would not have been a cozy conversation. It would have ended in a shouting match and hurt feelings, rather than a mutual appreciation of how far we have developed as a society. 

My grandma grew up in Nazi Germany. She was, like most German girls at the time, a member of the BDM, the Nazi youth organization for girls. My mom grew up in socialist East Germany. She was, like most East German girls at the time, a member of the FDJ, the communist youth organization. I grew up in democratic reunified Germany. I was not a member of any youth organization. 

I love both of them dearly, but our politics to this day diverge widely. While my grandma is not a Nazi and my mom is not a communist, there are plenty of political topics, such as racism, economic policy, the treatment of refugees and LGBTQIA+ rights, where we don’t see eye to eye. And as you can imagine, all of these are touchy subjects at family gatherings. 

When I was in my late teens and 20s, we had a lot of fights over politics. Dinner conversation would turn very awkward quickly, with positions hardening, accusations flying across the room and feelings getting hurt. It got to the point where I dreaded going to family events because I felt so much resentment.

What has changed since then? For me, the turning point was an old friend I met again at a conference for social entrepreneurs. I first reconnected with Ghazal over shared plans to become more entrepreneurial, but quickly our conversation turned to our mutual concern about the neo-Nazi party AfD gaining grounds in recent state elections in Germany. 

Ghazal, who has Iranian roots and lives in a mid-sized town in southwest Germany, shared with me a story: Her neighbor is an elderly woman who she had befriended over the years. They meet regularly to chat over tea and cake. One day, the neighbor mentioned that she had voted for the AfD in the last election. A party which prominently wants to evict „foreigners“ from Germany. However, she felt Ghazal was "a fine person and should not be evicted". 

Rather than starting a fight with her neighbor or breaking off contact, Ghazal chose an alternative: She decided to stay friends with her neighbor, but voice her concerns about the elderly woman’s political choice. And about a year later, her neighbor mentioned that she changed her mind about the AfD and would vote for someone else in the next elections. 

This story moved me deeply. I realized that how I approach the discussions about politics with my family matter. That I could preserve the relationship with them without giving in to their opinions. And that I had a chance to try something new.

Our family table before the coffee & cake that starts the Christmas Eve celebration in our family. This table has hosted decades of political family drama!

With that awareness, I went to my next family gathering. As always, a political topic came up. This time it was how to treat refugees that come to Germany. As always before, the conversation turned into an ugly fight. But something changed: I was consciously noticing the drama as it unfolded. And afterwards, on the bus that I took to get home from my grandparents', I could replay and review it in my mind. Dissect it, study it. I wasn't in the drama anymore, I became an observer.

I could observe where I had become aggressive. Where we had reacted out of defensiveness or anger rather than curiosity and love for each other. I could forgive myself and forgive my family for how the debate unfolded, which released the resentment. I noticed where I had lectured rather than asked questions. Argued instead of listened. Pontificated instead of told stories. And that awareness allowed me to change my own behavior in those debates, one interaction after another.

It was a slow process. And I don't believe there is a recipe for it. I was in a debate team in uni, where I learned how to structure arguments. I went to trainings on how to convince people, where I learned templates and formulas on what questions and stories to use in political discussions. None of that was helpful with my family. A different technique for having that conversation didn't matter until my attitude in those conversations shifted. And most importantly, over many such shifted conversations, I rebuilt trust within my family that despite differing politics, we are all well-meaning and love each other. That doesn't happen overnight.

But that slow process led me to a newfound connection with my family. And it allowed the conversation with my grandma about LGBTQIA+ identities to unfold in such a cozy way. When she mentioned that she felt too much of a fuss was being made about the rights of "gays and lesbians", I could have snapped and fought back. But instead, I paused. Took a breath to calm my rising anger. Silently repeated what has become a mantra for me in such situations: "Separate the person from her opinion. She doesn't mean harm, she is just looking at the situation from a very different angle."

My mom's Christmas tree

Shifting my emotional state allowed me to react from a place of understanding instead of defensiveness. I realized that neither the Nazi society of her youth nor the socialist society of her adult life had been supportive of LGBTQIA+ rights. And from there, I realized which angle I could take to respond to her statement.

So I told her that we have learned a lot of fascinating new insights in the last decades about gender identities, biological sex and sexual preferences. That they are not inherently linked and genetically predefined, the way we used to assume some decades ago. And that those learnings as a society prompted us to review our understanding of how we treat LGBTQIA people. 

That resonated with her. I know my grandma is intellectually very integer, she acts on what she believes in. Framing the situation as an opportunity to understand gender and sexuality more accurately helped her realize that what she learned about the topic under the Nazis and socialists was limiting and outdated. 

She thanked me for updating her understanding. And closed this topic by agreeing how unfortunate it is that these insights weren’t known when she was younger. 

So now, rather than dreading our next family gathering on Christmas Eve, I am looking forward to unraveling more knots around more touchy political topics!