A Republican’s Perspective on the 2024 Election: My Critique of Liberal America as a Former Trump Supporter

When I arrived on campus last year, I remember seeing the Amherst Republicans table at the club fair with only an anonymous QR code for people to join, which was my first realization of how reluctant Republicans on campus are to voice their opinions. Later, while running for the Association of Amherst Students (AAS), where I now serve as the only openly Republican senator on the 38-member body, members of the AAS expressed displeasure at the thought of someone with my political views serving in student government after seeing a photo of me with my governor, Ron DeSantis, taken during a Senate Page Program I participated in during high school, as well as photos of me with guns on Instagram.

Growing up in a conservative family in Jacksonville, Florida, I naturally gravitated towards the bold political rhetoric of Trump, and my political awareness developed around MAGA-aligned politicians. Even my nickname, ‘Jeb,’ has roots in politics, inspired by Jeb Bush, the governor of Florida when I was born. Although most of my evangelical Christian family didn’t necessarily like Trump as a person, when developing my political consciousness as an uninformed 10 year old in 2015, I did. I owned the hats, the shirts, the flags, and more. I saw myself in the image he portrayed as an anti-politician unafraid to speak his mind. In hindsight, this gave me the impression that he stood up for the “little guys” like me.

However, like many others, my suspicion began — admittedly, a bit late — after the 2020 election denial and the Capitol insurrection that Trump incited. After the 2022 midterms, when Republicans were expected to win the House of Representatives by a larger margin than the few seats they gained, I began to voice my concern about Trump remaining the driving force behind the Republican Party. Now, I believe it’s my duty to share my past, both to destigmatize the idea of Republicans voting for Kamala Harris on and off campus, and to urge Democrats to take a more compassionate approach when discussing politics this fall. While I have changed my opinion on Trump, I firmly believe that many MAGA supporters and Republicans are virtuous people who are unable to see through his lies and are doing what they believe is right. Speaking from experience, I’m certain that Trump’s hold on so many Americans is partly fueled by the sense of alienation they feel from the left, in a political atmosphere that’s becoming more polarized, with few genuine efforts to bridge the divide and recognize our shared humanity.

My favorite story to tell people about being a former Trump supporter is when I was eating with friends at a Chinese restaurant around the age of 15. While we ate, a customer at a nearby table began a horrific, racist rant toward one of the servers, calling the workers communists and using racial slurs. Having taken Chinese for several years and practiced Mandarin with my two best friends in high school (who were from mainland China), I cursed him out in both English and Mandarin before forcibly removing him from the restaurant. After the cops hauled him off, I returned inside to an overly thankful staff that offered to pay for my meal, but I was more focused on the female Chinese server who looked as if she had seen a ghost. When I asked her if she was okay, she just stared at the top of my head, which reminded me that I was wearing my MAGA hat during the interaction. She then told me, “I would have more likely believed that Jesus would come down from the sky today than that a Chinese-speaking white kid in a MAGA hat would stand up for me.” Since that day, I’ve been determined to change people’s perceptions of MAGA supporters, Republicans, and southerners. As an optimistic kid, I made a point to perform small acts of kindness whenever I wore my MAGA hat in the hope that people would go home so confused that they might change their minds about us. However, in my effort to change others’ opinions about MAGA America, I ended up with my own mind changed.

As a continuation of my quest to change liberal America’s perception of Republicans and southerners, I came to Amherst. The last piece of advice my nervous mother gave me after our tearful hug goodbye was, “Go to class, sit in the front, shut up, and be political AFTER you get your degree.” Six days after classes started, I called her to say that I was running for the AAS. Since I don’t, and never will, pretend to be someone I am not, I admit I was slightly nervous about how my politics would be received at Amherst. After all, in 2023, a form completed by 68.98% of the student population revealed that only 6.1% of students identified as “Conservative” or “Republican,” while 10.8% identified as either “Communist” or “Socialist.” However, I genuinely don’t have a single complaint about the students, professors, and faculty here. I’ve found nearly everyone to be knowledgeable, intriguing, and passionate individuals who make every day a joy. However, there are still traces of elitism and disdain toward conservatives here, which I consider reflective of the much larger issue of the lack of compassion from the Democratic Party.

While the Democratic Party may seem more welcoming and inclusive, I often felt the opposite when I was still a Trump supporter. During one of the few vacations my family took to the Northeast when I was 14, I vividly remember a grown man saying he should “sock me in the face” for wearing a Trump beanie. I also watched late-night shows and social media pages depict MAGA southerners — the friends and family members I loved — as ignorant, toothless hicks. This particularly stung, given that I indeed have friends and family who chose to forgo necessary dental work due to a lack of money. Even at Amherst, I’ve heard comments about southerners being “racist, inbred morons” and others saying I should be impeached from the AAS for being a “gun-loving conservative who worked with Ron DeSantis.” Last year, the protests that devolved into violence at elite institutions across America over the war in Gaza should have been a sobering wake-up call that academia is failing to foster civil environments where dissent can coexist, doing a tremendous disservice to the future leaders of America. Therefore, I believe that schools like Amherst need more people willing to voice their opinions and engage in the healthy debates expected of students at this institution.

The reality of current American politics is that both the left and right exist within their own echo chambers, with little effort to engage in compassionate, constructive discourse with opposing views, a key factor in the worsening political divide. Many liberals are shocked when I tell them that I hadn’t heard the 2005 Access Hollywood recording, where Trump claimed he could grab women by the genitalia because he was a star, until 2024, when I attended Amherst. Furthermore, near the end of last school year, I spoke with many Amherst students who were unaware that Trump had been found liable for sexual assault — not due to stupidity, but because the lack of respectful, compassionate political discourse leaves many people uninformed, especially those relying on biased sources for news. Therefore, there is an unprecedented epidemic of Americans exhausted and avoiding any political conversations, seeking shelter in the comfort of their own political ignorance. We currently exist in two different Americas, and it is imperative that this fall, we, as the Amherst community, resist the urge to label Republicans and Trump supporters as idiots, and recognize that the only way we will reveal the dangers of Trump is through friendly, constructive dialogue

Although I am often embarrassed by my former support for Trump, I am thrilled that my unique perspective will allow me to reach an audience that liberal America struggles to connect with this fall. Additionally, my former support for Trump helped me develop a pretty good Trump impersonation, which gets some laughs at Hitch on the weekends. I’m proud to have the courage to publicly admit that I was wrong about Trump, and I hope my confession makes it easier for other Republicans to do the same. While I remain a registered Republican, am working with the AAS to revive the Amherst Republicans club, and despise the reality that conservative-minded students across America feel unable to voice their opinion, I recognize that the party that once embraced John McCain is now unrecognizable and, in many ways, indefensible. Therefore, I hope that back-to-back presidential defeats will open our eyes to the reality that Trumpism needs to be left behind for good. This fall, I will do everything I can, starting with this column, to convince like-minded conservatives — on and off campus — that it would be far less risky to elect a Democrat for four years than to empower a vengeful authoritarian masquerading as a Republican.

I hope my unique background captivates the attention of closeted conservatives on campus who wonder why, as a gun-loving conservative, I see a vote for Harris as a no-brainer. At the same time, I want to encourage Democrats that through constructive, compassionate dialogue, convincing Republicans to vote for Harris is absolutely possible. There are lifelong Republicans across America who are sick of Trump yet still struggle with the idea of voting across party lines. The only way Republicans will rebuke Trump this fall is if the left adopts a more empathetic approach when conversing with their fellow Americans. A school as brilliant as Amherst should strive to be the epicenter of healthy political discourse in America, setting an example for the rest of the country and influencing what could be one of the most important elections in our history.