Below is a post by Mitch Jackson, a California-based lawyer I follow on Substack. If you’re a US American or related to one, you can probably relate to his thoughts about “loving someone who chose the red hat.” (This reminds me of the US Civil War, by the way, which lasted from 1861 to 1865.)

On the issue of trying to save them, it never occurred to me. If you’re at all familiar with the nature of cults, you know this is a nearly impossible task. (Intervention is not in the cards.)

All we have is hope, which springs eternal, or so I’ve been told.

Peace, MAA

There’s something heartbreakingly ordinary about sitting across from someone you love and realizing you no longer recognize the version of reality they live in.

Maybe it’s your brother. Your aunt. Your childhood friend who always brought the best pasta salad to Fourth of July potlucks. The conversations now come with a slow, careful dance, how’s the weather, how are the kids, how’s the job, before both sides quietly avoid the giant, MAGA-shaped elephant in the room.

And yet, there they are, still believing it. Still defending it. Still clinging to the myth of a man who has done more to fracture this country than unify it.

We Still Set the Table

We don’t stop inviting them to Thanksgiving. We still wave as we pass their houses. We still answer their calls, sometimes out of love, sometimes out of a deep hope that maybe this time they’ll bring up anything other than border conspiracies or deep state fever dreams.

This isn’t a how-to guide on winning them over. Those conversations rarely go anywhere. You could bring court transcripts, constitution clauses, or firsthand stories of people hurt by Trump’s policies, and it wouldn’t matter. Facts slide off the surface when someone’s self-worth is tangled up in red hats and slogans.

But we love them anyway. Because love doesn’t always come with agreement. Sometimes it shows up as restraint. Sometimes it shows up as silence. Sometimes it’s just not giving up completely.

They Don’t See What We See

They don’t seem to notice that the rest of the world is watching us, wondering what happened to the country that once stood for decency and freedom. They don’t seem to hear the way allies whisper concerns about our stability. They don’t feel the embarrassment of seeing our president lie again with cameras rolling and no shame in sight.

We do. And if they’re honest, somewhere deep inside, maybe they feel it too. That dull, nagging awareness that this isn’t pride anymore. It’s just inertia. They picked a side years ago, and now it’s easier to double down than to admit it was built on false promises and fear.

And we get it. Nobody wants to be wrong about something this big. Especially when it’s been part of your identity for so long. When you’ve waved the flags, posted the memes, made it part of who you are.

It’s just sad. Not for us. For them. Because history won’t remember this movement kindly. And they’ve written their names right into it.

Love Doesn’t Mean Approval

We don’t nod along. We don’t agree to disagree on things like racism, democracy, or basic truth. But we also don’t have to scream at them in the grocery store parking lot. Most of the time, they’re not looking for a debate. They’re looking for validation. And we don’t owe them that.

What we owe is honesty. Quiet, unwavering honesty. The kind that doesn’t flinch when someone jokes about immigrants or dismisses climate change as a hoax. The kind that says, with calm certainty, that no, this isn’t normal. It never was and it’s not OK.

You can love someone and still mourn the person they used to be. You can share a meal and still carry a private grief about what they’ve chosen to believe.

You can show up without surrendering your values.

The Unspoken Message

Here’s the thing. They read pieces like this and think we’re the ones being preachy. That we’re judging them. And maybe we are. Quietly. Internally. But not because they voted for someone we didn’t like.

It’s because they’re still defending the indefensible. Still pretending cruelty is strength. Still acting like corruption is just strategy.

They could have walked away by now. Plenty have. But they didn’t. And whether they admit it or not, it’s not us they’re angry at. It’s themselves. Somewhere deep down, they know they’ve been had. The rest of us know it too. We just don’t always say it out loud.

Because what would be the point?

The Damage Is Done

Trump may have left his mark on the courts, the environment, and the soul of this nation. But the more lasting wound is the one he carved into our relationships.

He taught a generation to doubt what they see with their own eyes. He made cruelty feel like patriotism. And he convinced millions that it’s better to be part of something broken than to stand alone on the side of what’s right.

And now, here we are. Left to pick up the pieces of a country that’s more divided than ever. Knowing full well that some people we love helped break it.

So We Keep Living

Not because we’re okay with it, but because giving up isn’t an option. We still show up for elections. We still speak the truth. We still believe in justice, even when it’s unpopular.

And yes, we still love our MAGA friends and family. Quietly. Carefully. From a distance, when necessary.

But we’ve stopped trying to save them.

They chose this. And that’s on them.

What’s on us is building something better. Something honest. Something rooted in values that never needed a slogan to mean something.

We’ll be over here. Voting. Raising kids. Protecting rights. Loving our country without needing to prove it with a hat.

Mitch Jackson, Esq