Last year, I wrote and published an essay entitled, “My Husband And His Family Voted For Trump, So I’m Canceling Thanksgiving And Christmas,” on HuffPost Personal. It immediately went viral.
I’ve never had an essay receive that much attention, with over a million views in just a few hours. I stood up straighter. I felt lighter. My step had a bounce, and I felt inspired to keep moving and do even more. This is what writers dream of — creating something that touches a large audience and makes them feel less alone, especially in the wake of what felt like such a tragedy.
Though my husband and I share very different political views, he was initially happy for me. What spouse wouldn’t celebrate their partner’s success? He read through the article’s comments and some of the emails that landed in my inbox, and we laughed at the ridiculous things people were sending me.
If you believe in deeply personal journalism — the kind that connects us in our hardest, most honest moments — please consider becoming a HuffPost member today.
“You need to divorce her and marry me. She doesn’t deserve a good man like you,” one person commented.
However, there were also sinister — even threatening — messages.
“When the internment camps are built, you will be the first inmate,” someone else wrote.
My husband was furious about those responses and wanted to respond. I recommended that he not engage. What was the point?
As the day continued, we moved on with our usual routines. However, within 24 hours, things begin to change.
When my husband’s family discovered the article, they were concerned. They were worried about our marriage, jobs, and safety. They were also surprised that I spoke out so publicly about something many people consider so private.
I was surprised by their reaction. Why wouldn’t I speak out? I was upset about what they’d done, what so many people in our country had done, and I knew that others felt the same way I did. My piece was meant to start conversations and provide connection at a time when so much was fractured. I knew that my husband’s family might be upset, but I thought they would come around eventually.
I reached out to my husband’s family to remind them that I love them, but I couldn’t understand how they could vote for Trump. Some of my calls were accepted, others were not. I was sad but steadfast, and I truly believed I had done nothing wrong. I felt even more certain as I sifted through the emails from strangers thanking me for being courageous and telling me that they were going through the same situation with their loved ones. They told me my article made them feel seen and gave them hope.
As my husband’s family’s concerns increased, so did his. He was no longer laughing at the messages and the photos from women pledging their loyalty to him. I stopped celebrating and started stressing out.
A few weeks later, on Thanksgiving, I sat alone at our dining room table and ate my dinner from a styrofoam deli container. The seven chairs around the table were empty. I had said I was canceling Thanksgiving, and I meant it, so my husband went to his parents’ house without me.
When he arrived home, I could see something had changed by the way he looked at me.
“What’s wrong?! What happened?!” I asked.
“You violated my family. I don’t know how we move on from this. You violated my family, Andrea,” he replied.
“What are you saying? You’re going to divorce me?”
I was frightened by his answer: “I don’t know.”
I spent the rest of that day trying to find out exactly what happened at his parents’ house that caused him to do a complete 180. He said that some of his family members were done with me, and he kept repeating the word “violated.”
I defended myself and continued to ask questions.
“This was my story,” I emphasized. “I never mentioned their names — we don’t even have the same last names. This was my experience. I wrote that they were good people and that I still loved them, but I needed space. Am I not allowed to ask for space? How did I violate them? They aren’t hiding their support of Trump; they are vocal about how they feel!”
Finally, I told him, “We can’t let this destroy us.”
Still, no matter what I said, nothing seemed to get through to him. He couldn’t even look at me.
We called a marriage therapist and emphasized we needed to see her as soon as possible. I sent her the article and told her what had happened. She advised us to respect each other’s positions and never speak about politics again.
It’s difficult to respect his position because of all of the hurt that Trump has caused and continues to cause, but I love my husband more than anything, and I do not want to lose him. So, for the sake of our marriage, I agreed to set aside our differences and concentrate on all of the beautiful things about our relationship. And I also made a promise to myself to fight even harder against what I saw happening in this country.
When Christmas approached, I decided to extend an olive branch to my husband’s family.
“I know I said I’m cancelling Christmas, but if you want them here, I will not stand in your way,” I told him.
However, the damage was done.
“It’s too late for that,” he said emphatically.
Throughout 2025, we acknowledged family birthdays with texts, but we never met up to eat cake or blow out candles.
“Shouldn’t you still go?” I’d ask my husband when a family celebration was nearing before adding, “It’s me they are upset with, not you.”
His response, “No. I said, ‘If they’re done with my wife, then I’m not coming.’”
This hurt even more because he was sacrificing himself for me, and it tore me apart to witness my husband caught between his family and me.
We continued to work on our relationship, but we kept our promise not to discuss politics. Of course, there were times when we couldn’t help but express our frustration about some headline or event, and those times were not pretty. Still, despite seeing our country and our president in very different ways, we love each other deeply, and there is no one else I want to spend my life with. I know he feels the same way.
I also know many people are navigating similar situations. Some cannot find common ground or insist that if someone believes something that goes against their personal ethics, they must walk away. I respect those decisions. I cannot say what is right for anyone else.
I remain distraught over what Trump and his minions have done to this country, and I’m terrified of what they will do in the weeks and months and years to come. I want women to be free to choose what they do with their bodies and their lives. I want LGBTQIA+ people to be safe. I want ICE to stop tearing families apart. I will keep speaking out about all of these things and more. And I will continue to hope that my husband and his family will eventually realize how bad Trump is for our freedom, our democracy, and everything else this country supposedly stands for.
“So much has been lost since November 2024, and I’m ready to move forward and see what can be salvaged, but I won’t compromise how I feel or my beliefs.”
This year, instead of canceling Thanksgiving, I’m expanding my guest list to include a diverse group of friends and family, like my ex-husband and his brother and one of my best friends and her husband. I’m sad about all the loved ones who won’t be at our table. So much has been lost since November 2024, and I’m ready to move forward and see what can be salvaged, but I won’t compromise how I feel or my beliefs.
I believe in the potential of this country, but more than that, I believe in the potential of its people. I’m furious about what has happened, but staying frozen in my fury won’t change that.
So, I’m open to seeing what happens now. I’m thrilled by the recent victories that progressives have made — and the rebuke of Trump they symbolize — and I hope that people who supported him will see there is a better way forward. Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t.
All I can do is share my stories, as fraught or complicated or dangerous as they may be to the fragile connections in my life, and do it with love and good intentions. This year, I’m more thankful than ever for the opportunity to do it.
Andrea Tate’s essays are featured in The L.A. Times, HuffPost, MSN, Buzzfeed, Brevity Blog, Hippocampus Magazine, Manifest Station, and more. She is currently working on her memoir, “Red and Blue.” To contact and read more about Andrea, visit her website at AndreaTate.net and her Substack, I’ll Show You.
Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.