Dear Xavi,

I’ve been dating someone amazing for a few years, but they have very different political and philosophical views from me. I don’t mean small disagreements—I mean big, fundamental differences about what is right and the world we should fight for. Can a relationship survive that? Should it?

—Crossed Wires

Dear Crossed Wires,

That depends. What kind of relationship are you trying to build?

Back in 2012, I dated a Republican. It wasn’t a long thing, and at the time I wasn’t even politically awake. I was more worried about the fact that we were having premarital sex and she wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness. But even then, I knew something felt off. I remember we went to see Lincoln, and afterward she said, “See? It was a Republican who ended slavery.” I didn’t really know what to say. At the time, I associated Christian fanaticism with Republicans.

In a way we did end up breaking up over ideology, but it was mostly religious guilt. Still, there are the seeds of something deeper. The truth is: it’s incredibly difficult to build something long-term with someone if you don’t share a framework for understanding the world.

Politics isn’t just about opinions. It expresses a particular material interest and philosophy. It’s about what whether you believe a better world is possible—and how we go about fighting for it.

That realization has become clearer to me over time, especially in my relationship with Kelly, my partner of ten years. We met while still in the religion, and both of our beliefs have drastically changed since then. But the reason we’re still together isn’t luck—it’s that we kept growing in a similar direction. Our philosophies have evolved, sometimes separately, but in a shared orientation. We’re curious about the world and willing to change our minds. That’s what makes it work.

I’ve had other relationships that challenged me in beautiful ways. Where disagreement sparked deeper thinking. The best relationships I’ve had were about curiosity. They were about taking the kernel of truth in what someone believed and helping each other strip away the rest. That’s rare. And it’s precious.

But I do still have my deal breakers. I believe everyone deserves a life of dignity. We have the resources—right now—to house, feed, and care for every human on this planet. That’s not up for debate. Neither is my sexuality or the fact that I’m polyamorous. If someone can’t respect those things, they don’t get to be close to me.

So what do you do if you’re in love with someone that's not right for you?

Ask yourself: what exactly am I in love with? Sweet words? Affection? The feeling of being chosen? Love isn’t just about how someone makes you feel—it’s about who you become when you’re with them. Are they helping you grow into the person you want to be? Are they holding you back? Are they reinforcing lies you’ve outgrown?

This isn’t of secondary importance. A partner should be someone you can be your true self with, someone who supports you to be the best version of yourself, who likes you for you and not the box they’re trying to fit you in.

If the answer is clear—even if it hurts—you walk away.

And when you do, let it be an act of love. You love yourself enough to know that you can’t compromise yourself. You love yourself enough to trust that there is someone out there who will align with you. You make the decision not in a haze of romance or delusion, but grounded in reality. In your principles.

You deserve better.

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Dear Xavi,

I left my religious upbringing behind years ago, but somehow, I still feel guilty about sex. I tell myself I should be free, I should be over this by now—but every time I want something, there’s still a voice in my head whispering that it’s wrong.

I want to fully embrace desire, to stop second-guessing every feeling, to unlearn the shame I never chose. But I don’t know how. How did you do it?

—Trying to Let Go

Dear Trying to Let Go,

Guilt is a terrible liar. It lingers long after its source is gone, whispering that you’re doing something wrong—even when you know, rationally, that you’re not. It doesn’t mean you made a mistake in leaving your old beliefs behind. It just means you were trained, over years, to flinch at your own desires.

Human thought develops dialectically, through contradiction. You might feel free one moment and burdened the next. Some days, desire will feel easy, and others, the old whispers of shame will creep back in. This back-and-forth doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re growing. Two steps forward, one step back—that’s the rhythm of transformation.

This same process was in motion when you left religion. You questioned ideas, tested them against experience, and replaced them with ones that made more sense.

But here’s the catch—just because your mind changed doesn’t mean your body did. Not yet. Your emotions are still working through years of conditioning.

And like any dialectical process, this isn’t a straight line. It’s a constant back-and-forth—discarding old habits of thought while building new ones that actually serve you.

I know this process firsthand, because I’m still living it. I was in the middle of having a sexual experience I was really looking forward to and one intrusive thought led me down a rabbit hole. One thought led to another, and suddenly, I wasn’t in my body anymore—I was in my head. Analyzing. Doubting. Bracing for something to go wrong.

Should I be doing this?
What if it ruins the relationship?
What if they aren’t really attracted to me?

I felt disappointed, frustrated, and almost impatient with myself. I've been on this journey since 2019, why is this still happening to me? And there's almost a different kind of shame that comes over you because you couldn't perform. I talked to my partner about it the next day and that helped me feel a little better. Not because it magically erased the guilt, but because saying it out loud made it feel smaller, less powerful. Shame thrives in secrecy, but when we voice it—especially with someone who sees us without judgment—it starts to unravel.

I'd love to tell you this has only happened to me once. But it hasn't. And it can be very frustrating. You're "free" in theory, but your body isn't cooperating. It’s maddening—wanting something fully in your mind, but feeling like your own body is resisting you. Like you’re fighting a ghost that was planted in you years ago.

I need to continue having patience with myself. Instead of measuring progress by how little guilt I feel, I can shift my focus. Stop thinking about whether your desire is right or wrong and start asking, "What do I want?", "What feels good to me?", "What am I curious to try?"

This could start as small or big as you'd like. Maybe it's just sitting with your desire and feeling comfortable with it. Maybe it's exploring fantasies on your own. Maybe it starts with an honest conversation with your partner. Instead of going down the rabbit hole of "Is it bad that I want to do X?" try reframing it by asking, "What is it about X that has me so intrigued?" Desire is not something you have to justify or explain away. It simply is.

And that includes you. You’ve already freed yourself in thought—now it’s time to live that freedom. It doesn't mean every experience will be perfect or frustration-free. But give yourself permission to embrace it! To revel in it! Because freedom isn’t just about rejecting the old—it’s about creating something new. A life where sex and desire aren’t weighed down by guilt, but embraced with joy. Where pleasure isn’t something to justify—it’s something to claim.

So claim it. Step into it. Let it be yours.

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Dear Xavi,

You talk a lot about Marxism, but I know you also grew up as a Jehovah’s Witness. That seems like a huge shift. What led you from religious faith to revolutionary politics? Was it a gradual process or a sudden realization?

Do you see any surprising connections between your past beliefs and your current worldview? Jehovah’s Witnesses emphasize community and a coming transformation—did that shape how you think about collective struggle? Or did you have to completely break from that mindset?

What was that journey like for you, and what advice would you give to someone questioning their own long-held beliefs?

—Lost but Looking

Dear Lost but Looking,

Thank you so much for sending in this question! I'm excited to see you going through your own process of questioning your beliefs.

At first glance, it might seem like going from being a Jehovah’s Witness to a communist revolutionary is a huge leap. But in some ways, the transition was more natural than you might think. Jehovah’s Witnesses believe in an imminent “end of the world,” where God will destroy the wicked and create a paradise on Earth—a society where no one goes hungry, no one is homeless, and suffering is eliminated. In that sense, they could be seen as idealist utopian socialists. Their vision of paradise mirrors a communistic society, but with a key difference: they believe only divine intervention can bring it about.

It’s not hard to see why this worldview resonates with people. The world today is full of war, hunger, homelessness, and despair. As Marx famously wrote:1

Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.

In other words, religion doesn’t arise in a vacuum—it reflects the suffering and alienation people experience under capitalism. Jehovah’s Witnesses, like many religious groups, tap into that reality, offering people an explanation for their suffering and a promise of something better.

However, their philosophy is ultimately idealist, meaning they believe that ideas (or in this case, God’s will) shape reality. Marxists, on the other hand, take a materialist approach: we understand that people’s consciousness is shaped by their material conditions. To change society, we don’t need divine intervention—we need to change the material conditions that create suffering in the first place.

For me, leaving religion wasn’t an overnight process. I first started questioning my beliefs in 2017. Religion provided answers, but they felt arbitrary: Why is life the way it is? “Because God said so.” Why are gay people condemned? “Because He decided it.” I valued truth, and these answers didn’t hold up. I started identifying as a communist in 2021, but it wasn’t until later that I really understood what that meant. Through this process, I’ve realized that admitting you were wrong isn’t a weakness—it’s the most intellectually honest thing you can do.

And yet, I still want a paradise on Earth. I just no longer believe we need to wait for a God to bring it to us. We already have the scientific knowledge, technology, and productive capacity to create a world where no one goes without. The only thing standing in the way is capitalism itself—a system that prioritizes profit over human needs.

As Marxists, we’re atheists not because we oppose religious freedom, but because we recognize that if people had full, meaningful lives today, the need for religion would naturally wither away. Imagine a world where people only worked a few hours a day, where all their needs were met, and where they had the freedom to reach their full potential. That’s not utopian—it’s entirely possible with a democratically planned economy.

Jehovah’s Witnesses claim to have unity, but it’s a unity based on blind obedience, not understanding. True unity is built on ideological clarity—on people being **convinced** of ideas, not just following orders. And in that sense, they’re right about one thing: the end of this system is coming. Capitalism is historically exhausted. We live in a world of monopolies, overproduction, and artificial scarcity. The climate crisis alone shows that we need a global, rational, democratically planned economy.

The journey of breaking away from religion was difficult, confusing, and at times painful. It meant dismantling my worldview—but as dialectics teaches us, change is a process, and the useful parts remain. My advice to you: be curious. Read. Think. Compare ideas to your own experience. If you do, I believe you’ll find, as I did, that the ideas of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Trotsky are the most important of our epoch.

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Welcome to ‘Ask Xavi’, my advice column on life, love, and more. Submit an anonymous question here.

Dear Xavi,

My friend and I recently started a podcast and I’m looking for any and all advice. We record in Riverside so it’s video as well, but I’m not loving the editing capabilities. I’m currently using CapCut but I can’t send edits to my co-host.

What are your editing recommendations?

I’d like something that allows me to create clips for social media.

Lastly, what platforms should I distribute the podcast to? Currently on Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

—Just Starting Out

Dear Just Starting Out,

Thanks so much for this question! Congratulations on your new podcast. I’m so happy for you on your new adventure!

Recording in Riverside is great. It’s a well-designed experience. The paid version of their software however is going to get you better quality recordings, and live streaming capabilities. I think it’s more worth it for the live streaming, but we’ll come back to it when we talk about your later question on distribution.

My opinion changes on whether you should publish the entire show in video or not. But that’s probably for a different article. I will say it's a good idea to record your podcast in video format for promotional reasons alone. So good on you for doing that.

Editing Your Show

CapCut has a lot of great features out of the box. But if you want a more fully fledged editor, look at apps like Premiere Pro or DaVinci Resolve. The latter of which has a free option.

Both of these are used by professional editors and have quite a learning curve. The decision of whether to learn these apps yourself comes down to time, budget, and intention. If you want to learn how to edit your own podcasts and have interest in helping others with this skill, learning it might be a great idea.

Both of those editing apps will allow you to create custom social media clips. Opus Clip is a helpful tool I’ve used to take my podcast videos and create short-form clips. It’s a huge timesaver and even integrates with Premiere Pro.

Your other option is to hire a video podcast editor. I happen to know a good one 😉 An external editor can be great because it gets you a third-party perspective on your show. If you hire the right editor, they’ll easily elevate it.

Live streaming and distribution

I’ve become bullish on live streaming. It’s a way to create more interaction with your audience, it helps keep you consistent, makes creation of your content much easier, and can be a way to distribute your show instantly after you’ve recorded it.

But first, let’s address your question on distribution. The short answer is this: distribute your podcast to every place you possibly can. One of those places should be YouTube.

I do want to acknowledge that YouTube is like every other censorious platform in the United States (i.e. Facebook, Instagram, and yes X as well): only topics within their Overton Window are allowed. I’ve seen them demonetize several creators I love, and anyone who creates political content on YouTube understands this. Many creators have started streaming and uploading to sites like Rumble, Rockfin, Kick, and others as a way to diversify.

That being said, YouTube is the largest podcast platform in the world. YouTube’s unmatched search and discovery opens opportunities to be discovered by new listeners looking for exactly what your podcast offers.

When you livestream on YouTube, your entire broadcast is turned into a video that can be replayed later. Even the live chat is replayed for viewers. YouTube comments are another way for discussion to happen around each of your episodes.

I’m not saying to put all of your eggs in the YouTube basket, but I think it’s an essential platform to have a presence on. Direct people from there to a safe place, like Substack or Rumble.

Wishing you all the best with your podcast ❤️

What did you think of this advice? Let me know in the comments below. Thank you so much for reading and if you’ve got a question, you can submit it anonymously here.

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Welcome to ‘Ask Xavi’, my advice column on life, love, and more. Submit an anonymous question here.

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Dear Xavi,

I divorced my husband of thirty years and faded out of the Jehovah’s Witnesses organization.

I’m thinking a lot about my future choice in partner. Should they be exJW like me? Or someone who’s not been part of or experienced a high control religion?

I feel like a teenager going out into the world learning skills as I go. I’ve never dated and I got married at seventeen inside the organization.

Advice please.

-Feeling Stuck

Dear Feeling Stuck,

Thanks for sending this question. I definitely empathize with your experience. Leaving the Jehovah’s Witnesses organization can be disorienting. Seventeen is a such a young age to be married.

I think there’s valid reasons to consider both. And I do want to preemptively say that ultimately the decision is yours. If there’s anything I’ve learned since leaving, getting in touch with your gut is essential!

Have you considered a “hoe phase”? Because I think you may need one! Dating a little bit of both might help you find what feels right for you. Not to mention that getting married at seventeen, you really didn’t get to date at all.

Dating an exJW or even some of our cult cousins (i.e. exMormons, ex-Scientologists, ex-Evangelicals, etc) has its perks. You share trauma, but you also share trauma you know? I’ve had a few partners that are ex-religious in some sense and it’s been incredibly healing. Being able to talk about your experiences and understand each other is a great thing. I’ve found that many of us are navigating similar things: unlearning purity culture, learning how to be social, where to be social, what life looks like for us beyond the religion, etc. 

Someone without this background might not understand. They might’ve grown up with secure attachments, support of their autonomy, and acceptance of their sexuality. This can be healing in its own right. They can open you up to new ways of thinking and new experiences. It won’t mean they’re not traumatized in their own way, but it’ll be different.

What are you looking for in a partner? What kind of things are you interested in sexually? What kind of political and moral issues are important to you? Do you want a monogamous or non-monogamous relationship?

How you feel around them? Do you feel safe to be yourself? Do you feel safe to express your feelings about the relationship or in general? Are your boundaries respected? Are you intellectually challenged? Are you loved and supported? Does it feel important to you for your partner to have an exJW background?

I’m wishing you all the best with your journey. I hope you find a partner that loves and cares for you the way you deserve ❤️

What did you think of this advice? Let me know in the comments below. Thank you so much for reading and if you’ve got a question, you can submit it anonymously here.

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