Surviving the Strongman

On Family, Politics, and Breaking Free

To My Fellow Survivors,

If you’re reading this and your heart is heavy right now, know that you’re not alone.

If you have spent your life trying to navigate the landmines of family relationships twisted by power, cruelty, and control, I see you.

And if you have struggled with watching your own loved ones fall deeper into a political cult that thrives on those same toxic dynamics, I understand. Because I, too, am living it.

Watching how Trump and J.D. Vance treated Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy was not just embarrassing to me as an American—it was triggering. Seeing a man stand there, asking for help in the face of existential threat, only to be met with dismissiveness, cruelty, and condescension, brought back memories of my own family. It reminded me of the times I was belittled for being too weird, too emotional, too dramatic, too different.

This isn’t just about politics. It never was. It’s about something much deeper. It’s about how people mistake power for righteousness, about how those who should protect and uplift instead choose to belittle and control. It’s about how a bully like Trump doesn’t just remind some of us of a politician we dislike. He reminds us of the people who tore us down, made us feel small, and then told us it was for our own good.

My grandfather was not a billionaire, nor was he the president. But he was a bully. He belittled, he demeaned, and he controlled. He believed cruelty was strength and that those who cowered before him deserved to. And his daughters learned that lesson well. They internalized the idea that to be weak was to lose, and to be strong meant to dominate. So when Trump came onto the scene, they didn’t recoil. They recognized him. He was familiar. He was safe.

My mother is different. She is the oldest, and I believe the most insightful and the most compassionate of her siblings. Yet she was manipulated, too. In 2016, a priest told her that Trump had “come to Jesus.” That he had turned his heart to God and become pro-life. A total lie, but a powerful one. Because if she questioned that, she wasn’t just questioning politics—she was questioning faith. Which, to her, would be unthinkable.

I have spent years trying to reconcile my love for my mother with the pain she has caused with her political allegiance. And I know I’m not alone in this.

I am sharing this because I know there are many of you out there carrying this same pain. I know what it is to sit with this grief, this anger, this impossible love. I know it hurts. But you are not alone.

And please remember: you are not obligated to heal them. You are not responsible for their beliefs, or their refusal to change. You did the bravest, hardest thing already—you broke away.

And that is something to be so damn proud of.

Yours in love and solidarity,
Lisa