What Trump voters are doing outside of America
BOOM! The cannon was fired. Both the man next to us and I jumped. I was standing on the deck, just before we left Portland, England. On the dock below us, men in old-fashioned costumes were firing a ceremonial gun, sending our boat off with a bang.
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We’d both been taking pictures of the cannon, but the man next to me held up his camera, which showed a blurry image. Your LGBTQ+ guide for Election 2024
Stay up to date with the election in 2024 by reading our newsletter. It covers issues, candidates and perspectives that are important. We both laughed. He was wearing jeans, a blue fleece and black glasses with horn rims. I figured he and I might have a lot in common.
Jacketless and shivering, I turned toward the cabin where Brent waited.
But the man stopped me. “Did you see the sail in this morning?”
“No, was it interesting?” I said.
“We went right past this pretty little lighthouse. This would make an amazing photo. “
Should i try to take a picture too? Torn, I thought. Okay, I wasn’t really torn. I’m always looking for a great photo.
As the two of us waited with our cameras, the man asked, “Enjoying your cruise?”
I chuckled. I laughed. It was disappointing to not be able to get into Edinburgh because of the fog. And not getting into Edinburgh because of the fog was disappointing.”
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“So true.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bob.”
“Michael,” I said, shaking his hand. What about you?” I wanted to spend time with them before they reach their teenage years.”
“And how has that gone?”
“Surprisingly well!”
I wanted to spend time together before I lose them to their teenage years.”
“And how has that gone?”
“Surprisingly well!”
I smiled. Bob seemed like a decent guy.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Seattle,” I said. “You?”
“Pittsburgh, but we recently moved to Arizona.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Pennsylvania, and Arizona — two swing states for the elections. “So crazy.”
Things must be crazy.”
I try to avoid talking politics with strangers, especially older white men. I’m always afraid they will say something that upsets me.
But, before I could switch the topic, Bob shook a head. “I cannot believe I voted that man. “Twice.”
I kept the surprise from my face. Bob had voted twice for Trump? Bob was adamant that he would vote for Trump again after the first term’s horror. I want to see more chaos and insanity! They were all well-educated and as horrified by Donald Trump as I was. I knew of no one who had ever voted him. Who were these people
Just a night earlier, I had overheard a conversation at the table adjacent to us. A red-faced older white man thundered: “All these migrants come in and the government gives everything to them for free!” Trump will keep America for Americans.” Trump will keep America for Americans.”
That man had looked and sounded precisely like a Trump supporter was supposed to.
But Bob didn’t look like a Trump voter, not at all.
“Did you watch the debate?” I asked. “I watched clips,” said Bob. “What a nutcase.” I thought as I looked back at the dock behind us.
A loose-cannon I thought.
I never understood his appeal,” I replied.
I hated the way the D.C. government operates, Bob said. Bob explained, “I thought that he would change it. But now things are even worse.” And the way he disrespects women…”
You’re just noticing this now? Twenty-eight women have accused him of sexual assault! I thought. Bob: “It was the sixth of January that made me vote for Kamala.” “I mean, attacking the Capitol?”
“Right?” I said. “The MAGA people wanted to hang Mike Pence. Trump did not even attempt to stop the MAGA folks for several hours. Bob nodded. “And the policeman who was killed.”
I asked. “Whatever her flaws, she’d never do anything like that.”
“Maybe. “I haven’t made up my mind.”
I nodded but I was shocked that Bob was so ambivalent. He couldn’t have seen the damage Trump caused by his vile lies about the “stolen election” in 2020. He seemed to be more deranged than ever, and even more racist. Many members of his previous administration said he was not fit to lead. Was America going to fall into a quasi-fascism just because the world experienced high inflation for a short time after COVID?
I had grown so tired of Donald Trump! His crudeness, cruelty and barely disguised appeals to violence. I couldn’t believe that Kamala Harris was able to rise above all of this and remain so dignified. She was a light in Trump’s dark world. She was, well, like the lighthouse at the end harbor that finally appeared. “We disagree on many issues. We agree on most things. The Constitution and our democracy are important. Bob’s face brightened. “I do too.”
I smiled. Was I trying to convince him to vote Harris?
Then he appeared to deflate. “I’ve got family in Pennsylvania, and they’re all still such total Trumpsters.”
This made me deflate too. Bob’s Pennsylvanian family didn’t even doubt Trump after all of the lies and nonsense?
It made me angry too. It was not normal politics — these were policy differences and things that you couldn’t agree or disagree about. Make America great once again? The fights online I had with old high school friends who were now MAGA-types brought back memories of 2016. After Trump’s victory, I had mostly stopped paying attention to politics in order to keep my sanity. After Biden’s win, I thought that the craziness had finally passed.
But here we are again, with the country almost split in half and the two sides literally hate each other. After nearly a decade, the violence threat was more than ever. Bob pointed to the lighthouse. “Didn’t I say it was fantastic?”
But I barely glanced at the lighthouse.
Instead, I looked at Bob.
Yes, he’d voted for Trump twice and wouldn’t yet commit to voting for Kamala. That was hard for me to accept — and even harder to understand.
On the other hand, it didn’t sound like he’d vote for Trump again.
More than that, Bob was clearly a good person. I thought he would grab a life-ring and jump into the water after me if I fell off the boat. Would he have dived into the ocean in order to save me? Would I have done it for him if I had known who he was?
At a certain point, the hate had to stop. Didn’t it? Bob lifted his camera. The lighthouse was rapidly approaching. “Get ready! Here comes the lighthouse!”
I finally looked at it, and it was as pretty as Bob had said. It stood there, guiding to safety. All we had to do was follow its light.
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Michael Jensen is an author, editor, and one-half of Brent and Michael Are Going Places, a couple of traveling gay digital nomads. Subscribe to their free travel newsletter here.
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