A racist, sexist , homophobe, convict and felon, otherwise known as the 45th and 47th president of the United States, Donald Trump. That is who is sitting in the most powerful seat in our country. After his first presidency, I thought to myself: There is no way he could get reelected after that train wreck. But unfortunately that nightmare became a reality. When I found out that Trump was going to be our 47th president, I was heartbroken and scared. This was the first election I was able to vote in, so I felt a desire to pay more attention. Throughout the morning of Nov. 4, 2024, I felt like I was walking in slow motion, trying to rack my brain around the election. That was not the only shock to my system that day.
A few hours later, I found out some of my friends actually voted for Trump; I was in utter disbelief. I would have never thought that people I am close to would choose to support someone whose rhetoric creates division amongst not only those on either end of the political spectrum, but everyone. As a Black queer woman, I felt betrayed. The base of Trump’s campaign was against any person who looked like me and represented me.
Why? Why? Why?
This question played over and over again in my thoughts.
Back in June 2017, when referring to 15,000 immigrants from Haiti, Trump said they “all have AIDS” and stated that 40,000 Nigerians, once seeing the United States, would never “go back to their huts” in Africa.
People like to say that political opinions should not affect friendships or relationships — that we can all respect different opinions no matter what party you support. I find it hard to follow those principles in this situation, because my identity and rights are directly attacked by the man sitting in the Oval Office, who my friends supported. And for what? “The economy?” I really try to keep an open mind when I face challenges, however that day my perspective of the people in my circle and the American people changed forever.
John R. O’Donnell, the former president of Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino, writes in his 1991 book “Trumped! The Inside Story of the Real Donald Trump–His Cunning Rise and Spectacular Fall” that Trump criticized a Black accountant, saying “laziness is a trait in blacks.”
Privilege is a word that is repeated a lot in our society. I did not have the privilege to look past all the racist, sexist and homophobic comments Trump made over the years and during his second presidential campaign. I personally could not ignore his hateful rhetoric and policies; for example, the travel ban that was fueled by racism and Islamophobia, and still vote for Trump. I had a real fear that I would not be allowed to marry the love of my life if Trump was reelected. I did not have the same privilege as my friends.
In a New York Magazine profile published in November 1992, Trump gave advice about women to friend Philip Johnson, stating: “You have to treat ’em like shit.”
Should I talk to them about it? Why did they vote for him? Am I a bad person if I don’t say anything? Am I overreacting? Should I drop my friends?
I don’t know the answer to all of those questions, but I did know one. I did not drop my friends.
Why?
At a South Carolina rally, five days after the San Bernardino terrorist attack in 2015, Trump called for a “total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States until our country’s representatives can figure out what the hell is going on.”
Maybe I don’t have enough of a backbone and maybe that makes me a hypocrite, but my friends who voted for Trump are great people. They always welcome me and I never feel out of place or uncomfortable when I hang out with them. I have not experienced microaggressions from them based on my identity and they have taught me several valuable lessons. We share many amazing memories together. I love my friends. The struggle between my beliefs and the beautiful relationships I have developed with my friends is complex as a queer person of color.
During Trump’s first term, Trump and 45th Vice President Mike Pence banned transgender people from serving in the military despite opposition from military leaders, medical experts, budget analysts, allied armed forces and nearly 70% of Americans.
Based on surveys from the Pew Research Center, most U.S. teens share their parents’ political and religious affiliations. From my experience, I share the same political opinions of my parents and have not thought to oppose them, since I have done research and support the values that they hold. I wonder if my friends who voted for Trump were raised in a household rooted in right-wing conservative values so they adopted that into their own belief system without much pushback. Would I be a Black, female, queer Trump supporter if my parents supported Trump and told me to vote for him?
On Nov. 27, 2017, Trump directed a racist comment toward Senator Elizabeth Warren, who has contentiously claimed Native American heritage. When honoring Navajo veterans who served in World War II, Trump remarked: “You were here long before any of us were here. Although we have a representative in Congress who they say was here a long time ago. They call her Pocahontas.”
I’m not saying that Democrats or left-leaning parties are beyond criticism. The Obama and Biden administrations had problems and human rights issues as well. My point is that supporting someone who is a loud and proud racist is something that goes beyond just politics. It becomes a question of if those are the values you align yourself with, and if that how you think someone should talk about other human beings.
On July 14, 2019, Trump attacked a group of Democratic congresswomen, telling them to go back to the “broken and crime infested places from which they came.” In reality, all of the congresswomen were American citizens, and only one of them was born outside of the U.S.
I am not able to write this and say I am a perfect person, because I am not. I do not research and boycott companies that support Trump, the genocide in Palestine, the use of child labor occurring around the world or other inhumane practices; I live a complacent, privileged lifestyle in that way. That’s exactly why I am writing. With the recent special election in California and the policies that are attacking migrant and Latine communities across the country, it made me realize it’s time for us lazy Americans to wake up.
Trump is a racist. Trump is homophobic. Trump is sexist and misogynistic. Trump is Islamophobic. Trump has been accused of sexual assault and rape by multiple women. Trump’s policies are causing suffering and death. Trump is the definition of hateful, but we can fight together to stop that hate from being normalized in our conversations, classrooms, relationships and beliefs.
The Justice Action Center published an article on June 12, 2025 on Trump’s order that stripped about 500,000 immigrants of legal status who lawfully entered the country. The Department of Homeland Security issued a notice to all beneficiaries of the humanitarian parole pathway for people from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela, directing them to “self-deport” immediately.
I do wonder if my friends who voted for Trump support the separation of families, kidnapping of undocumented people and U.S. citizens, terrorization of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (I.C.E.) or cuts to essential federally funded resources that the poorest people in our country need the most.
A video from Air Force One shows Trump telling a female Bloomberg News journalist, “Quiet. quiet, piggy,” after she attempts to ask a follow-up question about the recent release of the Jeffrey Epstein files.
I have chosen to just not talk about the election with my friends. I have avoided politics in conversations because I did not want to make things awkward. I did not want to start political debates that can be exhausting as sometimes the only Black person in the room. Does that make me ignorant? Possibly. Does that make me a part of the problem? Possibly. I have previously kept my peace, but now is the time to be uncomfortable because I doubt the women, men and children held in overcrowded, inhumane detention centers with their stomachs rumbling are getting a good night’s rest.
Devin Greer thinks American politics needs rebranding.
