What Are You Bringing to the Table This Thanksgiving?

Recently, a close friend and I finally sat down to talk about a growing distance between us. For over a year, we’d both been circling the conversation, waiting for the right time, hoping that the relationship would “reset” on its own, but it didn’t.

When we finally talked, we did the one thing we’d both been dreading: we walked back through the timeline of what had gone wrong. I was shocked by how many moments from her experience I’d edited out of my own story. I could remember the scenes she described vividly, but somehow I had erased their emotional weight from my version of events. My narrative had coalesced around a single truth: mine.

We both came armed with the thing that made the conversation possible, not a perfect memory or a rehearsed defense, but curiosity. And, as we head into a season of high-stakes conversations, that feels worth remembering.

The Olympics of Miscommunication

I recently read someone describe Thanksgiving as the “Olympics of miscommunication.” Everyone shows up having trained all year in their own corners of the internet, arriving with talking points, headlines, and low-level outrage humming in the background.

But what if this year we didn’t train to win? What if we trained to understand?

Last year I wrote about avoiding assumptions and preparing for tough conversations. This year, I’m thinking about preparing to listen and understand, not to respond.

Listening to understand means trying to grasp the other person’s perspective.

Listening to respond means crafting your counterargument before they’ve finished their sentence.

One invites connection, and the other invites conflict.

Facts, Feelings, Identity

I just read the book, Supercommunicators, by Charles Duhigg, who says every conversation happens on three levels:

• Facts: what happened

• Feelings: how we feel about it

• Identity: what it means about who we are

The trouble is we often think we’re talking about facts when we’re really just protecting identity.

When someone says, “The country’s going to hell,” it sounds like a political argument. But more often, it’s an identity statement: I’m scared. I miss the way things used to be. I feel powerless. Most of us know those feelings, and being curious can help us understand what is being said.

The Art of Looping

In conflict resolution, there’s a skill called looping: listening until the other person feels heard. Not until you think you understand them, but until they think you do.

At your Thanksgiving table, looping might look like:

“It sounds like this has been worrying you. What’s been making you feel that way recently?”

Then stop there.

Don’t fix, debate, or defend. Listen, and paraphrase only what you heard. Ask if you got it right, and then share your view.

Here are some examples:

If someone says, “We have to close the border; this is out of control,” instead of prepping a rebuttal, try: “It sounds like you’re worried about safety and resources. What’s been your experience with that lately?”

If someone says, “No one wants to work anymore,” instead of arguing economics, try: “It sounds like you’re frustrated by the changes you’ve seen. What’s made you feel that way?”

It feels awkward at first, like translating mid-sentence, but it changes the dynamic immediately! The air softens, shoulders drop, and you become co-narrators instead of opponents.

You can also support the conversation by:

• Showing you’re listening:
  “Let me make sure I understand…”
  (Not: “Let me get this straight…” which signals correction, not curiosity.)

• Finding points of agreement:
  “I can see what you mean about…”
  “You’re right that…”

• Tempering claims:
  Avoid sweeping statements like “Everyone knows that’s not true” or “Your side always gets this wrong.”
  Instead, use words like “Sometimes…” “It might be…” “In my experience…”

In conflict, the combination of listening, acknowledgement, and shared vulnerability keeps a conversation grounded in humanity rather than competition.

We All Contain Multitudes

Everyone at that table (including you) contains multitudes. This is where curiosity becomes essential, because identity is the hidden layer underneath many of our opinions.

When we forget that, we flatten each other into caricatures: the annoying conservative uncle, the overly woke liberal niece. But we are so much more complicated than that. Yes, you might be sitting across from someone that voted differently from you but who also loves dogs, coaches Little League, or checks in on Mom every week. Someone who loves and fears, just like you.

Identity is the thread that gives our opinions meaning. That’s why facts alone rarely change anyone’s mind, because beliefs are woven into who we believe we are.

Curiosity is the bridge. It helps us wonder: 

• What experiences shaped them?

• What stories sit underneath that opinion?

• What values are they trying to protect?

Curiosity creates the grace and space needed to really see and hear someone. 

If you want to meet all of the different ‘yous’ you’re bringing to the table, here's a fun exercise to try.

From Defending to Discovering

This Thanksgiving try focusing on being present instead of being right. You don’t have to agree with every view you hear. You don’t even have to like it. But you can bring curiosity:

“That’s interesting… Can you tell me more?”
“What’s been your experience with that?”

Curiosity is disarming. It invites reflection instead of resistance.

So during the cocktail hour, try to express curiosity, listen to understand, and clear your mind of preconceived notions. And if you give it a real, solid try and it’s still not working…well, it’s also possible some people are just jerks.

Happy Holidays!