Not long ago, I said on Twitter that I was thankful for having a family full of political views that oppose mine, since it made it more difficult to simply demonize the other side, and gave me impetus to consider the root of their opinions. And it’s true. But it’s also true that as the day of thanks grows near, I am becoming less and less thankful, in fact, for this facet of my family.

Thanksgiving means coming together to share food and celebrate blessings, and also, for me, like many people, entering a zone where I am almost entirely alone in my social and political beliefs — beliefs I don’t necessarily give much thought to in my normal, independent life, but that I am suddenly asked to explain and defend when certain topics arise at family get-togethers. While, abstractly, this is a good mental exercise, helping me understand my own reasoning and fortifying my stance, in the moment it’s a painful process.

I’m the co-hostess of our Thanksgiving meal this year, and I’ve pondered making a “no politics at the dinner table” rule. Accompanying this would be a friendly little sign re-iterating the rule, nestled snugly next to the centerpiece. When someone starts wandering into hot-button issue territory, I can just point at it and smile. In theory, the conversation would then reverse and re-direct to more agreeable topics. In all likelihood, though, it would just make blood boil and stifle conversation to the point of near silence. So, probably, no sign.

Instead I’ll try to take comfort in the fact that on that day in dining rooms across the country, other outsiders are also shaking their legs and biting their tongues in the name of togetherness, repeating the mantra “Pilgrims and Indians, Pilgrims and Indians” to keep calm and remember how it all started.