How I Repaired My Relationship with My Father, The Former Trump Supporter
Still cleaning up the mess, six months later
I was shocked when I finally understood that my father was going to really, actually vote for Trump. How could this be? Dad was a very young 69 and up until that point, was more likely to be found playing terrible guitar while drinking a negroni than getting twisted up over Hillary’s emails.
To my knowledge, Dad was also not suffering from early dementia or amnesia and therefore was well aware that I had been sexually assaulted as a young girl. He knew that I had struggled with my mental health as a result of that experience. He freaking cried his eyes out with me on more than one occasion because he was so sad about what had happened. So what in the hell was he doing voting for a guy who was trying to be the MVP of pussy-grabbing?
It made no sense that my father would vote for a man who was still living under the delusion that real, live women would welcome his orange digits pawing about their nether regions without their consent. Surely, my father had missed this very important detail about the slimeball-elect.
Right?
Two days after the infamous Billy Bush tape came out, I sat with my dad at a coffee shop and tearfully begged him to reconsider…
