In 2016 I put on my pantsuit and took my three kids with me to vote for the first woman President of the United States of America. It was a thrill. I was sure Hillary would win. She was more qualified, more likable, more intelligent, more experienced, more … everything.
And her opponent? Trump? He was absurd, offensive, and, probably, dangerous. Of course, Hillary Clinton would be elected President of the United States of America. How could she not? Except, she wasn’t.
The morning after the election, we were devastated. “Are we moving to Canada?” one of my children asked.
I was so certain
I was so certain Hillary would win the election, after all, it was “her turn.” I had adopted a binary narrative of the election — it was a choice between intelligence and stupidity, between class and crass, between good and bad, between love and hate.
There was nothing to discuss, it was abundantly clear, anyone who would support Trump over Hillary was wrong, probably even immoral. When given the opportunity to vote for the first woman president, anyone who would vote for the “grab ‘em by the pussy” candidate was, well, the enemy.
“Are we moving to Canada?” The question startled me both because I understood why it was reasonable for them to ask and because I felt the weight of having misguided them (and myself) about the meaning of this election.
I am not exactly sure how it happened. I imagine it was an unfortunate combination of the liberal indoctrination that was an integral part of my college and graduate school education, my consumption of only left-leaning media for a few decades, and the perspective-affirming bubble in which I lived (Squirrel Hill: a predominantly educated, liberal, progressive, Jewish community).
Somehow, I, the daughter of immigrants who had traveled the world and interacted with people of so many different circumstances, experiences, and backgrounds; I the teacher who prided herself on her ability to connect with students regardless of their political view or perspective; I the forever learner — somehow, I had become a close-minded person who lacked the humility and imagination to understand why others did not see the world exactly as I did.
“No. We are not moving to Canada.” In that instant, I rejected the path I had been on. Of course, we were not moving to Canada.
That Trump beat Hillary did not spell disaster for America. Life was good. I was advancing in a career I loved. We lived in a thriving community. My children were getting a high-quality education and were surrounded by loving, supportive friends and family. I was living a life of freedom and opportunity unparalleled, especially for a woman and a Jew, in the history of the world.
A political either/or
I believe in holding space for multiple truths. But, sometimes it is impossible for opposing truths to coexist. This was one of those times.
Either those who voted for Trump were immoral or I was wrong. Either half of America hated women or I was wrong. Either millions of men and women of every race, sex, age, ability, sexual orientation, and ethnicity were racist and homophobic or I was wrong.
I vaguely recall experiencing some social discomfort in elementary school and complaining to my mother that “everyone” was awful. She lovingly suggested, “if you really believe it is ‘everyone’ — maybe it’s you.” I took that to heart, even as a young girl.
How had I lost that perspective? How had I become so self-righteous that I could believe that everyone who voted for Trump was bad? I knew there could only be one answer: I was wrong.
It was time to do some homework. I resolved to choose curiosity over certainty. I began reading some conservative news sources. I started questioning those who didn’t share my progressive and liberal outlook. I challenged myself to critically question my own political perspectives. Most importantly, I started listening.
Fast forward to Nov. 5, 2024. I voted for Republicans — including Trump. My vote was not an endorsement of “grab ’em by the pussy.” My vote was not a vote to end democracy. My vote was not an expression of misogyny, racism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, or fascism.
Not at all. My vote reflected my reasoned decision that the Democratic party had betrayed too many of my values and that, despite the problems I see on the right, at this moment, the Republican party had offered a better path forward.
I am not explaining why I voted as I did. That conversation will take a while and is better left to one-on-ones over coffee.
Maybe we’re wrong
Today, I am simply suggesting that if you cannot understand how anyone voted for Trump over Harris (or Harris over Trump), you consider the possibility that at least some of your assumptions and beliefs, or the facts upon which they are founded, might be wrong. Maybe “everyone” who voted for Trump (or Harris) isn’t stupid, anti-democratic, or immoral.
Maybe, it is time to choose humility and curiosity. Maybe the path forward is less about who won this particular election and more about what we can learn from each other.
If not, if you are sure you know what you know and you will never understand the other half, maybe you should move to Canada.
Rona Kaufman is an associate professor of law at the Thomas R. Kline School of Law of Duquesne University. Her previous article was “Why I, a progressive feminist Democrat, am voting for Donald Trump.” The views expressed do not represent those of Duquesne University.
First Published: November 8, 2024, 11:52 p.m.
Updated: November 9, 2024, 12:10 a.m.