Readers, keep this between us, but I’ve got a juicy tidbit for you today. Ever heard of an ‘Am I The Asshole’ question? It’s where folks put their dilemmas out for the world to judge. Now, gather ’round. This one involves family drama, wedding bells, and a sprinkle of modern malarkey that you’ll get a kick out of. Spoiler alert: our courageous question-asker is keeping their identity under wraps as we dive into this doozy.

So, let’s paint the picture. Picture this: A conservative family (our kind of folks, mind you) has a dear niece who, bless her heart, has gone full-blown woke. And I’m not talking about the kind of woke where you start recycling more or express some empathy—no, ma’am. We’re talking the ‘call-out culture’, sensitive-to-everything, mind-your-pronouns-and-triggers kind. I know, right? Liver and onions of our time.

Our anonymous asker—naturally, a sensible soul—finds themselves in a conundrum. The niece—a spitfire named Emily (okay, I made that up; we’re keeping this incognito!)—is about to tie the knot. Traditions be darned, she’s thrown a curveball of a wedding plan, woke culture extravaganza and all. And herein lies the sticky part: the family is invited. But our dear friend isn’t so sure they want to go.

Now, before you holler “Ain’t that a flip!” remember the complexities here. You see, family is family. But does fellowship mean supporting something that goes against your core values? Oh, hold your horses, I’ve got more to share. Let’s dissect.

First and foremost, weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions for all—yes, even Aunt Gertrude who insists on spiking the punch. But when the invite reads more like a manifesto on political correctness than a celebration of love? Sheesh! Our anonymous asker is feeling more like a protestor drafted for the enemy’s parade. Emily’s wedding, bless her heart, is filled with ritualistic recitations of woke ideology. Admittedly, that’s an assumption considering the level of fervor she has. But make no mistake, the whole essence pretty much spells discomfort for our folks.

Now, Grandma would turn over in her grave knowing we’re questioning the sanctity of family gatherings. But, get this—Emily’s turning up the woke factor with multilingual vows and non-binary officiants, and requiring every attendee to attend a seminar on inclusivity and allyship. Our questioner feels like they’re about to enter a liberal arts college seminar! How’s a God-fearing American supposed to handle that?

Imagine our very own sharp-eyed asker sitting through hours of lectures, for crying out loud! Forced to nod along with pronouns they’d never heard of till that day. It seems a bit much to ask of anyone, don’t you think? And let’s not forget the cherry on top: the attire. No red, white, or blue allowed. Absolute travesty!

Alright, readers, let’s get to the meat and potatoes of it. The core of this dilemma isn’t just about the icing on Emily’s ironic wedding cake. It’s about principle versus blood. The essence of family ties drizzled with morality sauce. On one hand, refusing to go speaks volumes. It says, ‘I won’t support this.’ But not going could mar family relations beyond repair. Talk about walking on a tightrope! You see, even in my quaint cabin on the edge of the woods, I know forsaking a wedding ain’t something you do lightly.

One aspect to consider here, dear readers, is what the Good Book might suggest. It doesn’t exactly endorse walking into Sodom and Gomorrah-like settings. But then again, “Love thy neighbor as thyself” is also loud and clear. This duality is a Tangled-Up In Blue kind of situation, leaving many God-fearing souls scratching their heads. How do we balance our faith with family loyalty?

Here’s a thought: What would Gandma Do? Grandma had a knack for navigating choppy family waters with a warm pie in one hand and a prayer book in the other. If she were around, she’d likely encourage a balance. Show up for family, but perhaps sit in the back pew, ready to skedaddle if things get too loopy. You can be there in body—support your niece but disengage from the wokeness. Offer a prayer from afar if you must. But God knows, the most solid stance might be the simplest: Love them but stand firm in your beliefs.

And yet, if this is all just too much to swallow with a side of wedding cake, then it may be high time to introduce the young’un to your absence. Yes, some wounds might fester, but stand by your convictions. Emily might grow out of this hyper-jargonized phase and understand your stance someday.

So, dear readers, it appears our courageous asker is indeed NOT the asshole. Standing up for your beliefs doesn’t come with a he’s-going-to-Carnegie-Hall guarantee. Sometimes, you’ve just got to trust that truth will prevail in time.

And there you have it. No need to cancel anyone, just whistle that tune of family harmony mixed with a dash of standing-your-ground. The good cake always rises to the top.