Individuals finding themselves on both sides of the aisle have consistently relied on the belief that political leanings were a private, personal matter and therefore should hold no weight in regards to relationships of any kind. It hasn’t been until (semi) recently that the connections between political rhetoric, ideology, and culture have been both exposed by and infiltrated into mainstream political and cultural discourse.

With the current political climate notoriously earning a reputation for being particularly divisive, we have, as a society, moved beyond simply “agreeing to disagree.”

Now more than ever before, I have personally witnessed an increase in people refusing to succumb to these simplistic and suitable diversion tactics. What used to be considered a private affair too impolite for conversation at the dinner table is now being broadcast on every major communication platform.

Facebook threads are saturated with posts declaring, “If you believe x, then I will remove you from my friends list. I cannot in good conscious entertain these ideas in my circle and will not indulge in your misguided beliefs.” I even recently read of an (unverifiable) ambiguous internet legend who ended her relationship with her boyfriend via text when he refused to attend a Black Lives Matter protest with her in solidarity.

While progress is always initiated, and ultimately implemented, through productive discourse between those who may or may not share the same beliefs, often times in our current political landscape this productive, respectful exchange quickly turns cruel and outright toxic, therefore losing any potential effectiveness it may have promised. When this occurs and thoughtful debate is not an option, progress is not only impossible but actively discouraged.

More people subscribing to the entire spectrum of political beliefs are downright refusing to continue relationships of any magnitude based on what used to be considered personal opinion.

Perhaps the most important aspect of understanding the connection between the personal and the political is this: the ability to elevate any relationships ahead of politics is largely an extension of privilege.

Think about it: when the current administration actively pushes legislation that threatens your everyday life, politics quickly becomes personal. For instance, if you are the son or daughter of an undocumented parent and are being represented in Congress by an advocate of stricter immigration standards who seeks to deport any undocumented citizens from their district, you and your family’s emotional and economic survival is literally at stake.

When your identity, existence, and livelihood is consistently under siege, the luxury of “agreeing to disagree” in order to maintain friendships is not an option — it’s a survival tactic.

The mixing of politics and relationships is something that has always existed, and while you should never feel obligated for reconsidering friendships based on political differences, and there are a number of reasons you shouldn’t feel guilty for cleansing your political palette.

Here are some instances where it’s okay to end relationships over political differences:

1. They believe the wage gap is a myth

A common critique of the women’s right’s movement is the argument that the wage gap between men and women is simply a myth. The most common statistic thrown around is that women, on average, earn 78 cents to every dollar a man makes — equating to approximately a 21% gap. Some common critiques of this argument is that women are more likely to choose lower paying jobs, are more likely to take substantial time off for maternity leave, and that women are less likely to negotiate salary to begin with.

While some of these counterpoints hold some validity, many people who criticize the wage gap fail to take into account why women may or may not adhere to these behaviors. Women have traditionally chosen lesser-paying jobs because, within living memory, that is all that was offered to us. My grandmother has reminded me throughout my life how fortunate I am to even have the opportunity to choose certain careers that were not secretaries, assistants, elementary teachers, nurses etc.

There is nothing inherently ‘lesser’ about these careers than their more lucrative counterparts, but the sheer fact of the matter is, women in positions of leadership within the workforce is still somewhat groundbreaking.

Conversely, those traditional female-dominated jobs continue to be female-dominated because while women are encouraged to ‘reach higher,’ men are not encouraged to aspire to more mid-level (yet vital) positions for fear of not being taken seriously. We see examples of this in everyday conversation when folks jokingly refer to male nurses as “murses” or male nannies as “mannies” in a seemingly innocuous stab at their manhood as determined by their chosen career.

It is important to note that the wage gap is not simply a gender issue — race often also plays a role when distributing and negotiating salary. In 2016, studies showed that the average black male worker earned just 70% of the hourly wage of the average male worker. The data for women is similar; the average black woman earned about 95% of the average white woman. From a larger perspective, black women therefore experience an astounding 63% gap in pay compared to white men. In case you’re curious, that means that on average black women must work nearly eight months extra to earn the same amount men do in one year.

2. They endorse racist legislation and practices such as building a border wall.

Donald Trump has often and loudly been criticized for his racist behaviors, practices, and, ultimately, legislation goals. Perhaps the most notorious of these is his proposal to build a border wall. Trump’s enthusiastic promise to build a “great, great wall on our southern border” quickly became a cornerstone of his 2016 campaign.

His supporters largely jumped on board, endorsing this assurance with chants and hashtags of “build that wall.” When inquired about the reasons behind this wall supporters commonly respond with some iteration of the need for increased border security, increase restrictions on avenues toward legal citizenship, to ebb the flow of illegal immigration, and — most commonly in my experience — to protect ‘real’ americans and their quality of life before allowing others to reap the opportunities America has to offer.

The border wall in itself is an example of Trump’s racism in a number of ways. Mainly, Trump’s wall is, inherently, about dividing Americans — Trump is playing on generations-old racial fears in order to exhilarate and rally his supporters. Trump’s wall is a political campaign promise that is fueled by fear and hate in order to fix a problem that doesn’t exist.

Trump’s border wall is, and never has been, about border security. We know this for a few reasons, for example, and perhaps most notably, there already is a border wall in place — and it is only somewhat effective. More proof that Trump’s wall is not about border security and only a means to amplify racial fears and tensions between Americans is the fact that Trump’s supposed quest for increasing border security is much more achievable by simply hiring more customs officers for a fraction of the price of this new-and-improved wall.

According to U.S. Customs & Border Protection, we could not only actually increase border security but also boost our economy by $2 billion by hiring 1,000 new customs officers.

Lastly, it is nearly impossible to build one complete coast-to-coast wall along the border. Not only is most of the terrain itself remote, desolate, and dangerous, it has seen few unauthorized crossings since the current wall’s inception, regarding the need for such a “big, beautiful wall” unnecessary and braggadocios. Not to mention, much of the land is privately owned, meaning that Trump would need to steal land from Americans by way of eminent domain in order to build this wall.

At its heart, Trump’s border wall simply seeks to exploit the fears of Americans made uneasy by decades of social, cultural, and demographic change and aims to spread the dangerous concept that immigrants are a threat to the traditional American way of life.

3. They participate in culturally insensitive behaviors and/or language

This may seem like a less extreme offense for which to end a friendship. To end a long-term friendship for simply participating in seemingly innocuous behaviors, perhaps even unknowingly, may seem like a harsh reaction when in reality, it is crucial in order to actually implement cultural change.

What I’m talking about can be something as obvious as a confronting a friend who causally shares a rape joke over drinks or something perhaps more complex like ensuring your coworker possesses the capacity to separate himself from the popular cultural idiom that “men are trash.”

Focusing on the latter, the “men are trash” movement has received sharp and vengeful criticism from folks screaming — both on and offline — that it’s “not all men!!!” First and foremost, of course not all men are perpetrators of violence, what the “men are trash” movement attempts to illustrate is the flaws in the fabric of our culture that allows and encourages men to disproportionately behave in problematic — and often violent — behaviors.

“Men are trash” speaks to the spectrum of behavior that men are socialized to embody as part of their “manhood” which often inflicts harm upon others.

Think about it: it is completely normalized for men to use women to work through their own trauma or as a rite of passage (i.e. going through their ‘bachelor’ or ‘playboy’ phase). That is not to say women are incapable or do not participate in their own versions of this, but women they do, it is noticeably less normalized.

So, while it is fair (and appropriate) to note that 75% of men are not perpetrators of intimate partner violence (IPV), it is also important to note that 75% of IPV offenders are male. And these violent behaviors are extensions of the same behaviors all men are socialized to embody: manliness is synonymous with toughness, emotionally stoic, and often aggressive behaviors. In short, violence against women is not a women’s issue — it is a men’s issue. It is in this vein of understanding that the communal “men are trash” concept is rooted.

When people actively participate in harmful and culturally insensitive behaviors without consequence, we are not simply cutting them slack in that moment. It is much more dangerous than that. By not holding people accountable for their oppressive beliefs, we are subconsciously sending the message that these opinions are acceptable in our company, and by extension, our culture.

Cutting ties with people who hold these toxic beliefs is not only courageous, it is essential in reshaping our culture.

By confronting and challenging harmful beliefs and practices of those who we love, we begin to, at a minimum, vocalize that these beliefs have no space in everyday conversation and life.

At a minimum, this challenges many of the oppressive ideals that have allowed so much injustice to persevere for so long.

By allowing those who invalidate the existence of others or actively discriminate against those who do not look or live the way they do without consequence, we are directly allowing these beliefs to be perpetuated and reinforcing the idea that personal opinions are harmless.

And, as we have seen, when personal opinions are believed to be harmless, cultures, legislations, and political dynasties are soon built on these “harmless” beliefs.

Since I was a girl, I have felt eyes roam up and down my body, tracing the terrain of my skin beneath my clothes with the expectation that the mere presence of my body could tell them something my mouth or my brain could not.

I have felt many different eyes expecting many different things. I have felt eyes that are hungry, eyes that are envious, eyes that are critical, and eyes that are kind. And these eyes are everywhere. They are in grocery stores and gas stations, bars and coffee shops, in classrooms and libraries, in gyms and bookshops.

I was young when I first noticed them. Or rather, when I was forced to have to notice them for my survival.

When I was 8 years old, I was in the car with my mother at a gas station near our home. As we pumped gas, I begged and begged for her to give me just a few dollars for a chocolate bar, a proposition I knew she’d eventually give in to if I was persistent enough. I ignored her attempt at ignoring me and continued to plead and bargain with her. I’d do the dishes tonight even though it wasn’t my night! I bargained. I’d take the dog for a walk before school for a week (a tempting offer as it was the dead of a Midwest winter)! I’d do the dishes and walk the dog before school for a week!

As always, she eventually caved.

I walked inside the gas station while my mother continued to wait by the car. I was minding my own business and concerned with only one thing: getting my candy bar. I walked through the glass swinging doors of the QuikTrip gas station, cash in hand, and proceeded directly to the candy aisle and began to browse.

It wasn’t long before I felt them. The eyes.

I glanced up and toward the counter, and there was a man standing near the checkout watching me. He was an older man, with longer salt and pepper hair and a thick, unkempt beard to match. We locked eyes for a moment — me, unsure of what, exactly, was happening, and him — smiling at me with only a half of a smile.

I was so young that I didn’t yet have the word for the expression he was wearing, but I knew it made me uncomfortable. I would later realize, in retrospect, that he was smirking.

It didn’t take long for the man to walk over to me in the candy aisle and begin a conversation. I can’t recall the entire exchange, but what I do remember is thinking he was standing really close. So close I could smell past cigarettes saturating his thick black winter coat to the point where it was difficult to breathe. He smelled of stale cigarette smoke and dirt — thick and unforgiving.

Eventually, he grew impatient with my lack of response and bent at the waist to look at me at eye-level. The sudden movement startled me, and his sudden closeness made me jump. He laughed softly at my reaction before asking, “Are your parents here? You shouldn’t be alone in here without them.”

The question was innocent enough, but the way he asked me made my spine straighten and my muscles tense in suspicion. I stood there, frozen and unresponsive, as his eyes wandered from my face, slowly to my toes, and back up again. And I realized:

His eyes were hungry eyes.

At this point, I had taken so long to get a candy bar, my mother had decided to come and get me. I saw her walk through the glass doors behind the older man, and when she finally located me with her eyes — with mother’s eyes — she immediately sprang into action.

She walk-sprinted over to where I was standing, grabbed my hand, and yanked me away while pointedly staring at the man who had been talking to me. All in one swift motion. Multitasking the way only a mother can.

We continued to walk-sprint to the car, where she opened the passenger door for me and hustled me in, shielding my body from view with her own the entire way.

As she settled in the driver’s seat and we exited the parking lot, she asked me what happened, and I told her. I also told her I didn’t like the way he looked at me.

My mother paused at this before she responded, “Honey, you are beautiful. People are going to look at you, but most importantly, you must remember that no one has the right to touch you or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. You are beautiful, and you will become even more beautiful, and situations like this are inevitable, sadly. But just remember, sweetheart — your body is a temple.”

This is a phrase I would continue to hear on and off for years, constructed and manipulated to spread a variety of messaging.

I would hear it in my all-girls Catholic high school sex education in order to promote abstinence. “Your Body Is a Temple, Do Not Defile It Before God.”

I would hear it tied to pseudo-body positivity messages. “Your Body Is a Temple and No Temple Is the Same.”

I would hear it used as a weapon to bring other women down for their choices. “Ugh. Why does she have so many tattoos and piercings? Doesn’t She Know Her Body Is a Temple?”

I would hear it as a criticism from men when women dressed or carried themselves in a less ‘conservative’ way. “I just really like when women are more modest. I Just Think That Their Bodies Are Temples and They Should Save Something for the Imagination.”

It wasn’t long before I realized it was a tool of oppression — limitations masquerading around as empowerment.

It also wasn’t long before I realized I did not agree.

My body is not a temple.

My body is not a temple. It is not something to be worshipped, idolized, glorified, or open to the public. My body is not a temple.

My legs are not pillars at which to be genuflected; they are the tools I use to walk through this life and this world.

My hands are not meant to be kissed by worshippers’ lips; they are instruments I use to express my art, hold my belongings, touch my loved ones, and interact with the physical world.

My eyes are not here to bewitch, ensnare, or captivate you. They are the devices that enable me to see the world and all its color.

My curves are not meant to seduce or inspire you. They are the cumulative composition of my anatomy.

My body is not a temple. It is a testimony.

A testimony to my childhood, as the medium oval scar on my right calf testifies to my first serious slide into third base.

A testimony to my self-expression, as my clothing testifies to the life and style I choose to emulate.

A testimony to my identity, as my femme expression testifies to my experience as a woman and womanhood.

A testimony to my personality, as my loud, stomping gait testifies to my outgoing nature — which I prefer to call “walking with purpose.”

A testimony to my limitations, as my petite frame requires me to adopt the agility of a house cat in order to reach the bowls on the top shelf.

A testimony to my health, as the scar across my stomach and the deafness in my right ear testifies to my experience being born prematurely.

A testimony to my privilege, as my white skin color and thinness allows me certain advantages in this world.

My mother, while right in so many ways, was wrong that day at the gas station.

My body is not a temple. It is a testimony.