They were arguing about abortion.
It was on Interstate 74, driving past the endless cornfields of rural Illinois, when Lesley Dzik realized she’d been raising her voice at her husband, Matt. She stopped, and suggested they drop the topic. He agreed, and quiet settled into the cabin of the pickup truck.
“I love you,” they told each other, and the hands that had been gesturing to articulate their opposing views collapsed into each other on the center console.
The Dziks have navigated issues common to so many marriages, from parenting to money.
But politics? That’s complicated.
Lesley, 56, is a Republican. Matt, 68, is a Democrat. She is anti-abortion. Matt believes women should have the choice. She refused to be vaccinated during the pandemic. He got the shots.
When they started dating, all it took was the sight of Democratic lawn signs outside his house ahead of the 2020 election to make her question if their relationship could work.
But they both wanted it to work. Lesley read books by other politically divided couples for inspiration and eventually came across Braver Angels, a nonprofit started by a therapist after former President Donald Trump’s 2016 election to help people bridge the political divide. They found a community there that is both red and blue.
“It gave me enough hope,” said Lesley. “I felt safe, I’m not alone.”
They seem, in so many ways, the ideal couple. Matt, who is retired, routinely brings flowers home for her. She helps him with handy-man jobs he does for people who can’t afford professionals. He drives her to the library at the University of Illinois where she works. They volunteer together at a local theater so they can see shows for free.
Lesley is deeply Christian. Matt, an Army veteran, was raised Catholic, but now sees himself as more spiritual than religious.
“I get worried with Matt because I believe the Bible is truth and Matt is iffy about that,” she said. “I wonder what I got myself into.”
But they attend church regularly and when they pray, they hold each other.
Acts of kindness bring them together, whether helping a man who uses a wheelchair get to church or caring for a nonverbal boy so his single mother can work. But their political differences seem to worsen before presidential elections.
At times, things get so heated, they don’t speak for days.
A suggestion from their therapist that has helped them navigate their insecurities hangs on the refrigerator door. “Can I give you a hug?” it reads. “If no, then say, ‘I love you. You don’t suck. I’ll come back in ten minutes.’”
At Braver Angel workshops they’ve learned some techniques to keep political talk civil. Speak to understand, one rule says, don’t speak to win.
Their need for one another is too great to avoid the discomforts of their many disagreements.
“We share the same heart,” said Lesley.
“I love looking in her eyes and seeing her smile,” said Matt. “Why would I want to lose that?
They’ve found things they can agree on, like putting up a flagpole in their front yard and flying the American flag.
“It’s much more inspiring than any yard sign will ever be for me,” she said. “It’s more enduring.”
The Associated Press receives support from several private foundations to enhance its explanatory coverage of elections and democracy. See more about AP’s democracy initiative here. The AP is solely responsible for all content.
