My brother is a cop. I'm a civil rights activist....

My brother is a cop. I'm a civil rights activist. Our family dinners are a war zone. We can't talk. Can't find common ground. Can't even agree on basic facts about reality. My parents want us to "just get along." To avoid topics. To pretend we're not diametrically opposed. But this isn't about pineapple on pizza. This is about fundamental values. About justice. I can't sit at a table and pretend we're all on the same side. We're not. And that's painful but true.