My Parents Voted for Trump: What Does That Mean for Me?

Attending Amherst has been a dramatic culture shift for me. I grew up in a community that rarely discussed political topics, especially when it came to race. When we did, it was usually derogatory. It was common, for instance, to hear relatives “warning” me about dating people outside of my ethnic community, not to mention the normalized homophobia. While I didn’t inherit these beliefs, it became easy to dismiss their severity because hearing them had become so normalized to me. I thought of myself as an apolitical person, but to be apolitical in a racist environment was to be complicit in racist ideology — I didn’t realize this until I took a course on Black artists, reading about the different ways people have combated discrimination throughout history. I’m thankful for the college’s inclusive culture, not only because it showed me how I had become complicit through ignorance, but also because so many of my friends depend on support lines such as the Queer Resource Center or the student body’s racial diversity for their safety and comfort.

Yet I can’t deny that Amherst’s political climate has conditioned me to often dismiss right-wing voters. It’s the norm on campus to publicly shame conservative voices on campus, whether it’s anonymous posts on Fizz or dinner table discussions at Val. Jeb Allen ’27’s recent article on diversity, equity, and inclusion caused campus to erupt with insults and even a death threat. I understand this norm on campus as a defensive maneuver, one designed to defend Amherst’s safe spaces from those who might threaten it. As Sarria Joe ’27 has pointed out, you shouldn’t have to participate in a peaceful “dialogue” with those who want to strip away your rights — for liberals, empathizing with conservatives will not preserve our basic rights if they don’t return the favor. But after last year’s election cycle, the campus trend of humiliating dissenting voices on campus — even if these voices have explicitly distanced themselves from the current administration — has felt more like a coping mechanism to me. I’ve been complicit in the campus culture of insults too, watching in silence as people humiliate conservatives. This public shaming has only grown in intensity as the new administration strips our rights away.

While I’ve changed, I can’t guarantee the same for my relatives, especially my parents. Maybe that’s not as big of an issue for those whose parents are left-leaning, but it’s an issue for me. My parents voted for President Donald Trump this past election cycle. Although they voted for the Democratic Party during the 2016 election, they helped elect the man that we rightly vilify on this campus. They frown in confusion when they see gender-neutral bathrooms in my dorm. They complain about feeling neglected by the government whenever they see news about illegal immigration and rising taxes. And they’re certainly not the only Amherst parents like this.

The cognitive dissonance is obvious: I love my parents, and yet I feel the urge to mock and dismiss people like them. Because I know them, I turn to them for advice, but many would ignorantly label people like them as idiots. Many would label them the ruin of this country.

There’s a generational and cultural gap between us that no number of essays, articles, and dinner table conversations will bridge (English is their second language anyway). But while staying with them this spring break and answering their confused questions about Mahmoud Khalil’s planned deportation and the growing list of countries with travel restrictions, I realized that they were oftentimes too exhausted from work to keep up with the news. They were tired of putting their trust in politicians who didn’t understand them and took their votes for granted. They were tired of coming home day after day to news that only seemed to grow worse. They wanted simple solutions to complex problems. It suddenly didn’t make much sense to mock or humiliate people like them, despite what might seem like the norm on campus.

Later, they complained about Trump’s attempt to dismantle the Education Department. I thought Trump was beginning to symbolize something new for my parents: yet another politician who lied to their faces. The things they had complained about for so long — rising grocery prices, an unpayable mortgage breathing down their backs, exhausting work hours for what seemed like minimal reward — would still persist despite his campaign promises.

But I fear they’re suffering from a bit of cognitive dissonance, too: They still don’t regret who they voted for.

A few days before I returned to campus, my parents and I had another political disagreement. It fizzled out before it could grow into anything that hurt any of us, but it became clear to me that the conflict I’ve felt between my love for my parents and my dismissal of others who think like them couldn’t be reconciled within four short years, let alone a 1,000-word essay. For now, my parents and I have decided to agree that our minds can’t be changed, that we are simply the products of our age brackets: being older, my parents will lean conservative, and being younger, I will lean liberal. We keep political discussions to a minimum at the dinner table, and I’ve learned that there are some moments where I should simply listen instead of arguing with them.

While I won’t stand on a soapbox and lecture people about how “We need diverse perspectives,” my complicity in Amherst’s culture of insults nearly poisoned my familial relationships, which are something I can’t risk losing. The college’s liberal political environment might make many feel safe or comfortable, and I’m not condemning that, but we often fail to acknowledge how our cultural attitudes translate to spaces beyond Amherst. In fact, we seldom discuss these tensions on campus, and I know I am not the only student whose parents or relatives voted for the sitting administration. Oftentimes, the communities we return to are disconnected from the college’s culture, and it is important that we, as students, help bridge this gap — even if it means we can’t win every argument.