Many on Facebook seem to be doing one of two things these days — either posting about politics or posting about how they wish their friends wouldn’t post about politics.

Another blogger, Ginger at Ramble Ramble, has effectively made the point that it is possible to “engage in civil discussion about issues and platforms,” “advocate strongly for why you think what you think,” and “use reason to explain your position” without being, you know, a jerk.

She writes that:

“Because when this political season is over, and the races have been decided, the non-stop political nonsense will die back down to a low boil. But you and I? We’ll still know each other. And I’ll know what you really think . . . of me. And how can that not change how I think of you?”

She’s right.

Sometimes I call Facebook “Fakebook.”  Fakebook – the place where everyone’s children, marriages, vacations, and sandwiches are all perfect.  (Come on, we all do it.  I never post a picture when I make an ugly omelet.)

It’s this suspended virtual reality that can foster the misbelief that those who oppose our political beliefs are theoretical zombies we’ve never met.

The problem is that in almost all cases we have met our “Facebook” friends.  They are, you know, friends.  They aren’t all people we see all the time or are in our inner circle, but we have some, old or new, close or distant connection to them in the real, physical world.  Facebook isn’t Twitter, where I can follow Bill Gates and Mitt Romney and several astronauts without being creepy.

Facebook is rooted in actual human relationships – we grew up with or went to college with or worked with or met our Facebook friends at a party.  They are our friends, not our followers.

But, because it’s a virtual forum, we can forget that the folks that read our words are our people.  Once, someone I grew up with and like camped out in my head and heart all day because I learned on Facebook, in no uncertain terms, how they feel about some folks’ right to marry.  Since one of those folks is me and another is Kristen, that person’s political stance on Facebook was, well, personal.  And got to me.

One approach to negotiate the quasi-virtual, quasi-real world of Facebook is to stick to the old adage that one should never discuss religion or politics.  I respect that approach and those that follow it, and suspect that they may well be wiser than I.  Theirs is the safest course in a coarse world.

I’ve chosen the trickier path of posting, carefully, about politics.

This is because, if I have learned one thing in my 35ish years on the planet, it’s that I’m best when I’m candid.  Being gay can really be a gift in this way.  Pretending to be something or someone you’re not is tremendously fatiguing.  Those of us who are lucky stop trying.

I’m political.  The personal is political.  Facebook is personal.  To not be at all political on Facebook would be, well, Fakebook.

I am wired to be comfortable (usually) taking a position with which others disagree – that’s part of what makes me able to practice law.  But, I never want my Facebook friends, who are real people that I know in real life and in many cases love, to feel personally attacked when we find ourselves on opposite sides of some issue.

So I try to be gracefully political.

When we were dreaming up FreedMcKeen, this is something we spoke of frequently — this desire to be authentically ourselves not just at home but professionally.  Do my political leanings or the fact that I’m a lesbian or my obsession with the Mars rover offend potential clients?  I don’t know.  I hope they don’t, but I leave room for the reality that they well may.

But I am what I am, and so is Ryan and so is Kristen.  And we will not just tolerate but encourage all of our ams.

And we will try, like heck, to be graceful.