My family will be shocked when they read this piece. One of them might even call and suggest I am a victim of identity theft, and I should proceed with caution.

For almost three decades, I have explicitly ruled out political talk at our holiday meals. Our gathering is huge and meaningful, and I love the Kumbaya moment of extended family and multiple friends singing, “We gather together.”

No political talk because everyone comes with a point of view that might jeopardize the peace of the evening. In my family, spirited arguments have been happening for decades, and some of them were bruising — but none happened at our holiday table. Our turkey meal was a hallowed space of love and tradition.

I even censored my husband’s opening remarks for such meals with strict guidance that he not engage in a topic that might spark political warfare at the table. He figured out how to offer thoughtful yet provocative ideas that might only get us thinking, but there our thoughts would rest.

Now, though, I am proposing that we allow political discussion at the holiday table, with guardrails such as time limits, forbidden topics or other measures to ensure respect and tranquility.

Why the change of heart?

We have lost our ability to disagree civilly with one another. The ability to hear and manage conflicting views is an important life skill. Sadly, I suspect our children aren’t learning this skill sufficiently — whether due to shortcomings at universities, social media influencers or mental fatigue. Instead, we choose echo chambers of like-minded people where we feel most comfortable.

If our children are not learning how to hear differing perspectives, then we need to teach them. The discourse will sharpen their thoughts and strengthen some too-gentle sensibilities.

We are approaching a tipping point of bad ideas that need airing out. This requires time and focus, which we are in short supply of these days. However, at a holiday meal, we slow down. We watch football, talk to Aunt Bessie about her knitting, and help with the table setup. We have time to sit back and think.

We have an opportunity to probe. For example, if our discussions lead someone to like the idea of free public transit, we might pressure-test it. Would there be budget shortfalls? Service cuts? Safety concerns? Overcrowding?

The transit question is a relatively slow pitch over home plate. Other topics would likely draw more heat — immigration policy, the rise in antisemitism, the value of a college education, the affordability crisis, and even the powers the Constitution grants a U.S. president.

Imagine a world where we could debate these challenges and actually hear the other side. Might it be easier to find solutions?

There is a bigger reason political conversation should have a place at our holiday table. I am grateful to live in the great United States, even though I understand we’re not perfect. No country is. It has become fashionable to find the many reasons the rest of the world is better.

In 2024, we processed 1.5 million political asylum applications, leading me to believe that many outside our country agree with me. We are still viewed by many as the country that offers the most freedom of expression and opportunity. This also means that sometimes we have to put up with some foolish ideas — like the Holocaust never happened.

Holiday meals, with all their good cheer, might be the right place to allow freedom of expression, even about politics.

I know political conversations are never easy. When my son returned from college during his freshman year, I immediately met him with, “Can you believe Condoleezza Rice is withdrawing as the commencement speaker at Rutgers because students were protesting her role in the Iraq war?”

We engaged in a heated discussion about maintaining an open mind, even when you think you know better. Weeks later, I received a postcard from my son that had an image of pears in a bowl. He wrote: “I saw these pears and thought of you. To nature, ceramic bowls, and to letting each pear ripen … Your son, with love.”

“Ripen” was well said, which could only happen because we had a challenging, thought-provoking conversation.

In a world that can feel brazen, there is a place at the holiday table to have “hot” conversations, but with respect. My son’s postcard sits on my desk as a reminder.

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ABOUT THE WRITER

Jill Ebstein is the editor of the “At My Pace” series of books and the founder of Sized Right Marketing, a consulting firm. She wrote this for InsideSources.com.

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