Shemaine Bushnell Kyriakides
I’ve been a staunch Democrat my whole life, but as I look at the results of the latest election, I can’t say I’m entirely shocked by Trump’s success. Saddened, yes—but not surprised. This isn’t just about Trump; it’s about what his win says about where America stands today.
In recent years, our divisions have only deepened. Sure, we’ve always had political divides, but we used to keep our disagreements respectful. Now, our differences are raw, spilling into anger and even violence. Trump’s victory lays bare a troubling truth: we’re a country at odds with ourselves, even within our own families and communities.
And as much as I find Trump’s rhetoric offensive—racist, sexist, divisive—I did consider his platform, even if just briefly. For me, it boiled down to immigration, the economy, and a sense of security. For many voters, these issues overshadowed everything else.
Take immigration, for example. Trump’s approach is hard-line; he promises to curb illegal immigration and prioritize Americans for jobs. Surprisingly, some Latino voters, who have usually leaned Democratic, supported him. That may seem contradictory, but it’s more complex.
For a lot of people, economic concerns trump other issues. They see new arrivals as competition in a tough job market, especially when the economy is shaky. For them, Trump’s promise to restrict immigration sounded like a way to stabilize things—so even though they’re immigrants themselves or descendants of immigrants, they supported him.
Then there’s the surge in support among white women, another surprising demographic shift. Historically, a lot of these voters leaned Democrat, especially on issues like reproductive rights. But even with Trump’s Supreme Court appointments leading to the overturning of Roe v. Wade, his appeal didn’t wane here. Maybe it’s because Trump kept his language vague enough, talking about leaving it to the states to decide. Interestingly, while states like Missouri have strict abortion bans, people in states like Arizona and Montana voted to protect reproductive rights. It’s almost as if Trump’s stance allowed people to reconcile their support for him with state-level freedoms they value.
Meanwhile, the Democrats struggled to communicate what they’d actually achieved. They focused on discrediting Trump, casting him as a buffoon or worse, but failed to clearly outline their accomplishments. Trump, despite his brashness—and often with snide remarks about Democratic politicians—stuck to his core message: fix the economy, create jobs, and control immigration to reduce the strain on public resources. He openly criticized the taxpayer costs of supporting immigrants, while Democrats talked about ideals that felt more abstract to many. It felt like one side was focused on everyday issues, while the other was talking about ideals that seemed out of touch with people’s daily lives.
We can see the impact of these issues in cities like New York and Los Angeles, where there’s been a staggering rise in homelessness alongside an influx of immigrants. Many Americans, especially those already struggling, see immigrants housed in hotels while they themselves barely make rent or, in some cases, live on the streets. There’s a growing resentment toward a system that seems to prioritize newcomers over struggling citizens. I’ve heard echoes of this frustration among my Democratic friends—people who would have never considered voting for Trump but found themselves wondering if he might actually be able to "Make America Great Again."
That’s the thing about Trump’s support—it’s not necessarily about traditional American or Republican ideals; it’s about Trump himself. His followers are loyal to him personally, in a way that feels like a movement more than a typical political campaign. That sets a dangerous precedent. History shows us the risks of a populist figure with fiercely loyal followers, willing to overlook any behavior or statement. Trump speaks without a filter, often sounding more like a mob boss than a politician. He’s called Japanese people “Japs,” demeaned women, and labeled Black people as “lazy.” This lack of diplomacy, this willingness to say whatever’s on his mind, seems reckless at best, offensive at worst. And yet, as uncomfortable as it is to say, his bluntness resonates at a time when people feel desperate.
A lot of my female friends—lifelong Democrats—have quietly expressed a similar sentiment: they want America to go back to being the country they remember, one strong enough to help its own citizens and then others. Right now, we’re struggling, and the idea of America as a symbol of empathy and support feels empty when so many of our own people are suffering. For some, Trump seems like a way to get back to basics, even if his methods and morals are hard to swallow.
In the end, I didn’t vote for Trump. His ideology and approach clash too much with my own beliefs. But I understand why so many others did. They looked at the state of the economy, immigration, homelessness, and instability around the world and felt they had few options. Trump, for all his flaws, tapped into that frustration—and in doing so, he won over millions.
The question we face now isn’t just about Trump or Biden or Democrats or Republicans; it’s about whether we can bridge these divisions before they tear us apart.
