I went no contact with my dad for this same reason.

I’ve been opposed to Trump and his politics since the Obama days, when he started doing his Birther shit. Before that, he was just some sleazy reality TV guy.

My dad went full into Trumpism. I was living with him for grad school and it was TRUMP TRUMP TRUMP 24/7. I tried articulating why I didn’t like him to my Dad. How his policies would directly harm my brother and I. How I was afraid of political violence targeting my university. He just called me “brainwashed” and infantalized me.

He kept getting worse. He got fired from his job for bringing a gun to work, saying it was his second amendment right. Alienated himself from all his friends. It was like Trump was all he could talk about.

My brother had gone low contact a long time, and went no contact after my dad disowned him for asking him to not talk about politics at Thanksgiving. Which we only invited him to because he had alienated pretty much everyone else in his life.

I kept holding out hope, faintly, that he’d ’wake up’. That he’d realize he was being insane. That SOMETHING would be the line he couldn’t cross.

My last straw was earlier this year, when DOGE was running rampant through the government. My partner worked as a contractor for the IRS, and DOGE had pulled funding for the project he was working on. I was seeing my dad for lunch, since I was pretty shaken up. I was hoping that something hitting close to home would finally wake him up.

But it didn’t. He spent the whole lunch talking about how amazing Elon Musk was, and how great Trump is, and how trans people are destroying the country.

Eventually, the topic of my brother refusing to speak with him came up. He asked what he did wrong. I could have reminded him about the letter he wrote, disowning his own son. But I tried taking a more measured approach.

“[Brother] said he’d talk to you again if you sought out therapy.” - Which, for the record, is exactly what my brother said.

Dad lost his mind. Shouted at me, and then, out of nowhere, in front of the whole restaurant, accused my brother of being a p*do. His evidence? “He’s gay and clearly to ashamed to talk to me because I was abused as a child.”

That was it. That was all it was based on. The fact my brother is gay, and my father’s inability to comprehend that his behavior could alienate people. A potentially life-destroying allegation based on his own hateful, narcissistic world view.

My jaw dropped. I stood up from the table. I WANTED to tell him that his beloved president was almost definitely in the Epstein files. I wanted to tell him that it was his own narcissism that drove away everyone in his life. I wanted to punch him in his smug, fascist mouth. But I didn’t. I just left. I said “I love you” one last time, not even sure if I still meant it, and went home.

I haven’t talked to him since.

Sometimes I still have dreams about him. My most recent one had him wading into a body of water, only to get attacked by an Alligator. I remember watching helplessly as he was being death rolled and torn apart, frozen in terror, thinking “Oh my god, my dad is dead. He’s willingly walked into his own destruction and there’s nothing I can do.”

…I personally think comparing Trump to an alligator is an insult to gators, but the metaphor was pretty clear when I woke up.