I remember growing up in a very different world. Sometimes I wonder how we got here, how I got here—but then again, I suspect every generation feels that way at some point.
One of the earliest memories that comes to mind is my mother’s voice, coaching me socially: Don’t ever discuss religion or politics. It’s bad manners, she said.
I often wonder if there are still parents out there giving that kind of advice, or if that strategy of avoidance has been completely left behind. I couldn’t really say how well it worked for most people, but for me, I think it did.
Not leading with religious beliefs as a kind of identity card allowed me to build friendships across different backgrounds without pre-judging anyone. And politics, at least from a kid’s perspective, were just phrases your parents repeated—things that felt less like ideas and more like inherited positions you were expected to carry.
Today, it’s different.
We wear our political views on our sleeve. We talk openly about religion. We debate uncomfortable topics without much hesitation. Maybe the pseudo-anonymity of the internet opened that door, but the shift feels deeper than that. It’s cultural now. These conversations—both productive and not—have followed us offline. They’re part of everyday life.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve picked up a few lessons—things I find myself repeating like a mantra. Pick your battles. Conversations aren’t always about winning. Some people you can’t reach. Not all opinions are worth engaging with.
The list goes on...
There’s real value in stepping outside your echo chamber. In challenging your assumptions. In hearing perspectives that don’t align with your own. But there’s also a point where it stops being productive. Where it becomes less about understanding and more about endurance, more about egos.
Beating dead horses isn’t a virtue. It’s stupid.
And learning to recognize bad faith—dishonesty, deliberate misrepresentation, or just a refusal to engage with basic reality—isn’t cynicism. It’s self-preservation.
We like to pretend that more conversation is always better—that dragging every belief into the open is some kind of moral progress. But I’m not so sure anymore.
Not every discussion is honest. Not every disagreement is rooted in reality. And not every person is actually trying to understand anything at all. Some people are not even interested in letting you talk to begin with.
There’s a difference between engaging with ideas and feeding off conflict. One builds something within yourself. The other just burns time and energy while convincing you that you’re doing something meaningful. Meaningful to who? for what purpose?
So maybe the goal isn’t to speak more, or louder, or more often.
Maybe it’s to be a little more selective. A little more deliberate.
Because if everything becomes a battle, eventually you forget what was worth fighting for in the first place.
-MenO