MY GENERATION

A mother and daughter split by Brexit

BEL

Two years ago, I became seriously at odds with my daughter. It wasn’t a silly family squabble – we disagreed over arguably the most significant political development for decades. Yes, I voted to leave the European Union, and Kitty was on the opposite side.

It really was a question of sides. All across the UK, families and friends were arguing the toss, often with real animosity. As my son (a Remainer) said to me, ‘The thing is, you’re in one trench, Mum, and we’re in the other. Nothing to be done about it.’ In our family, we’ve always had healthy and happy discussions about politics, so it was upsetting to feel so alienated from two people I adore.

The truth is, I didn’t really feel alienated from them. No, they felt that way about me. I completely understood why folk voted to remain in the EU, as it was by far the safest option. A perfectly reasonable vote for the status quo – choosing what was familiar over the unknown. But what got to me most was that my children had no respect for my views – in fact, they didn’t bother to ask exactly why their highly intelligent mother had voted Leave with such conviction, or why I had voted against the continuing membership of the EEC back in 1975. My Euroscepticism is deep, sincere and convinced.

They didn’t seem interested. Instead (truth be told), the contemptuous look in my adult children’s eyes seemed to lump me with knuckledragging racists on the right who had allegedly stolen their future (and their children’s prospects) from them. They gave my thoughtfulness no credit – and I found that pretty annoying.

Many of my friends felt the same as I did, not all of them old. For example, I know three bright couples in their 30s who voted Leave – sick of the autocratic, spendthrift EU fatcats. The most brilliant man I know (theologian, conservationist, international charity executive and fluent Chinese speaker) voted Leave, and so did another close friend who is one of the most successful businessmen in Britain. My closest chums voted Remain, but have now said they would vote Leave. It’s a complex issue.

I’m bored by Brexit shenanigans now, faintly amused by all the diehard Remainers, furious at their snobbery and sick of the EU’S punitive arrogance – but I’m convinced that in the end all will be well. Great Britain is still just that in my view: great.

Let’s move on – because what is interesting is how a family deals with political differences. Kitty thinks I’ve lurched to the right, when my position has always been in the centre. I’ve voted Labour (the most times) but also Green, Lib Dem and, recently, Conservative. My heart rejects one size fits all – whether in clothes (usually shapeless), psychotherapy (people are too different) or politics (28 very different countries making decisions? No way). I have many friends who support a political party different from the one that claims the loyalty of their children. That’s life. So are we all going to spend precious family time wrangling?

It’s important to acknowledge that views can and do shift over time. In my 20s, I was driven mad by my father’s views. Now I find myself agreeing with many of them. Is it because I’m older? Probably.

These days, I understand that no one political party has the monopoly on compassion, and that prejudice is as nasty on the left as on the right. I repeat: I respect both sides of the Brexit vote. But I no longer want to discuss these issues at family meals. Yes, my solution is evasion. Agreeing to differ is civilised – as there’s no point in fruitless debate. After all, we can discuss books, music, films, religion, food, art, fashion, education, morals, journalism, nature… while laughing at the antics of my grandchildren. Isn’t that what matters?

My children had no respect for my views

KITTY

I’ll never forget waking up that morning in June 2016 to discover that Britain had voted to leave the EU. It was like a punch to the gut: horror, disbelief and then anger. My phone didn’t stop beeping with text messages all day; my peers (ranging from doctors to actors, lawyers to stay-at-home mums, investment bankers to charity workers) were all devastated. Two years later, we still feel the same way. ‘The people have spoken,’ says the popular press – but have they really? It was only a slim majority: Leave won by 51.9% to 48.1%. The referendum turnout was 72.2%, with 45 million people voting, which means 27.8% didn’t, or couldn’t, vote. Hardly the sweeping majority of our great country’s population that could justify the lofty claim that ‘Brexit is the will of the people’.

Many experts now believe that a second referendum would swing the other way, yet we ‘Remoaners’ are told to shut up and get over it. But I can’t. I believe the Leave side – and Mum’s right, there are very much two opposing sides here – won the vote through lies, half-truths and playing on insecurities and prejudices. It was a referendum that should never have happened – and it has cost our country its unity.

I have always felt both British AND European, and now not only is my European identity being taken away from me, but I also feel faintly embarrassed to be British – a nation now the laughing stock of the world, second only to the US since it elected Donald Trump. And I’m angry for my children and the choices and opportunities that are being taken away from them because of a vote by an older generation that won’t have to live with the consequences. We are being dragged backwards when we should be moving forwards. I could go on, but there’s no point. I won’t change the mind of any Leave supporters, and I expect my fellow Remainers are nodding in agreement as they read.

Almost as bad as my grief over the Referendum result was the impact it had on the relationship I have with Mum. I was shocked she voted Leave; she was always left of centre in her politics and that influenced me growing up. Early memories include a march against the poll tax, and another one about student loans. Feisty and articulate, Mum wasn’t afraid to stand up for what was right in social circles – admonishing rich family friends if they displayed a boorish lack of understanding of what life was like for people less fortunate. She was my hero and, of course, I wanted to be like her when I grew up. But this? I think she is on the wrong side of history, and it’s been very painful to feel slightly embarrassed (for the first time in my life) by her views when she shares them with others.

Ultimately, no one knows what leaving the European Union will mean for us (other than getting those blue passports back), and I really do hope that I’m wrong, that it does turn out to be a good thing. But I think it’s very unlikely that my children will ever thank their grandmother for her Leave vote. She says I haven’t asked her why she voted as she did, but it goes both ways – she hasn’t really tried to understand why we, her two children and our spouses, feel as strongly as we do. Perhaps deep down I believe that as a mother she should be voting for OUR future, the future of her grandchildren – therefore what we want and believe is right for the future should matter most to her.

But perhaps that isn’t fair, I honestly don’t know any more. We’ve let it go. We’ve had to because our relationship is worth much more than this. Luckily, the love and gratitude I feel towards Mum is far stronger than the disappointment and, yes, anger, on this particular subject. Has Brexit caused a rift in your family? Email us at good.housekeeping@hearst.co.uk

I think Mum is on the wrong side of history