No one laughed. I said: “That’s a joke.” Still silence. “Because his face is orange-ish…” A sister in-law’s mom chuckled softly. It was the least full of gratitude or happiness I’ve seen a group of people at Thanksgiving. No apparent capacity for humility, or levity, beyond the odd racist remark.

The least shrewd passed around a meme on his phone to everyone except me, but I intercepted it and saw a portrait of Trump made of charcuterie with a caption about showing support at Thanksgiving without discussing politics. The POTUS’ face was salami, so I joked they’d gotten the color correct.

I drank non-alcoholic spritzers to lessen my chances of saying something irreparable, and listened to my family admire the arsenal in the human-sized gun safe expertly installed flush with the wall, and the skills of the taxidermist who’d prepared their wall decor.

"i am young despite my best efforts to grow older i am muslim i am a democratic socialist and most damning of all i refuse to apologize for any of this" lololol amazing

then we’ll round out the day with a fake date where plus side you’ll get to eat non-hot chicken, but your interviewer may make you cry.”