RACISM ALONE DOES NOT EXPLAIN THIS MOMENT
Racism is real in America. It has shaped our history, scarred our institutions, and still influences our politics. There are racists who support Donald Trump. That is true.
But racism alone does not explain this political moment.
If we reduce tens of millions of voters to a single moral defect, we learn nothing. We have taken the easy way out, and we are not thinking critically. We win no one. And we avoid asking hard questions about why so many Americans felt pushed into a choice they did not celebrate but felt compelled to make.
For years, many people who might have shared outrage over certain policies were told to be silent about their own concerns. When drag performers were reading to children in public schools and libraries, anyone who questioned whether that was appropriate was branded hateful. When debates over gender identity moved from adult spaces into elementary classrooms, raising concerns about age-appropriateness was treated as bigotry. When the phrase “I will not define what a woman is” became a political dodge, many ordinary women heard something unsettling, as if biological reality itself had become negotiable.
You can believe in dignity for transgender people and still believe that biological sex is real. You can defend adults’ freedom to live as they choose and still question whether children should undergo irreversible medical procedures. You can oppose cruelty and still believe borders matter. But too often, these distinctions were flattened into “You’re either with us or you’re hateful.”
That moral absolutism drove many common sense, decent people away.
On immigration, many Americans do not support cruelty. They do not support family separation. But they also do not support what they perceive as chaos. When “border security” became synonymous with racism, the conversation shut down instead of maturing. The greatest president of all time believed in securing the border and opposing illegal immigration. This is not a Republican issue.
On gender issues, many people were not demanding persecution. They were asking for space to hold to long-standing understandings of sex and womanhood without being told they were denying someone’s humanity. They were asking whether “woman” is more than clothes and surgery—whether reducing womanhood to appearance and anatomy might itself diminish the depth and dignity of women’s lived experience.
If a grown man wants to dress up like a woman and pretend he is a woman, that is his business. But why do I have to deny basic biology, reality, and common sense to indulge his fantasy? He is not a woman. Why am I hateful for stating reality? Things we all learned at least by middle school?
When those questions were mocked instead of answered, resentment grew.
The political left did not lose simply because of racism. It lost credibility with many voters long before Trump arrived on the scene. Some voters saw the choice not as good versus evil, but as two deeply flawed option. That is not praise for either; it is an expression of political exhaustion.
Many of us saw the situation as this: if all this great country can put forth is Kamala Harris versus Donald Trump, we need another political party.
And here is an uncomfortable truth: if you tell every voter who disagrees with you that they are racist, sexist, or ignorant, you remove any incentive for introspection. You transform politics into a moral shouting match rather than a persuasion effort.
Consider this: many people who rejected Kamala Harris did not do so because she is a Black woman. Some of those same people have said openly they would have enthusiastically supported someone like Michelle Obama. I did not vote for Harris, but would have stood out in the rain all day to vote for the former First Lady. That may not settle every debate, but it complicates the easy narrative.
Even President Barack Obama did not rush out with an immediate endorsement the moment the political ground shifted. There was a noticeable pause, and during that window there was open discussion inside their party about whether the nomination process should play out more broadly. He ultimately endorsed her, and did so publicly and decisively. But many Americans observed that hesitation and interpreted it as uncertainty about political strength, electability, or readiness for the moment.
That perception matters. For many voters like me, the issue was never race or gender. I would have enthusiastically supported Michelle Obama without a second thought. The difference is not identity; it is confidence. One can respect Kamala Harris’s accomplishments and still question whether her record and public positions positioned her to unify a divided country. That distinction may not satisfy everyone, but it is an honest one, and it deserves to be acknowledged rather than dismissed.
Of course, my name was never going to appear on any list of those who voted for Trump. That was not the direction I chose. But many others did—not out of devotion, and not out of hatred—but because they believed they were choosing what they perceived to be the lesser extreme. For them, it was not a celebration; it was a calculation. And if we refuse to understand that distinction, we will keep misreading the moment.
If racism explains everything, then nothing else needs examining. But if cultural overreach, ideological rigidity, and contempt for dissent played a role, then self-reflection becomes necessary.
Democracy is not sustained by outrage alone. It requires persuasion, humility, and the ability to hear why people disagree. If we want to change the future, we must be honest about the past. That honesty cuts both ways.
Yes, there are reports every day that disturb many of us about what we are seeing now. But let’s be honest—some of us were repulsed long before this administration. Many more people might stand shoulder to shoulder with your outrage today if it had not felt so selective yesterday.
When debates raged over late-term abortion, when minors were being ushered into irreversible medical decisions, when basic biological realities were treated as optional—where was the same moral alarm then? Outrage that only flows in one direction loses credibility.
Perhaps the harder but more necessary step is for all of us to look in the mirror and admit that we may have helped create this climate. If we want others to move back toward the center, we must be willing to step back from our own extremes as well. Democracy survives not when one side wins, but when both sides rediscover restraint. Clarity. Decency. Common sense.
It is true that Donald Trump has been elected twice. But it is also true that Barack Obama was elected twice. That alone should remind us of something important: the majority of Americans are not extremists. They are not radicals living on the political fringe. They are ordinary people navigating imperfect choices in complicated times. The pendulum swings, elections change, parties rise and fall—but most citizens remain somewhere in the broad middle, trying to balance conviction with stability.
If we remembered that, we might spend less time demonizing one another and more time rebuilding a political culture that reflects the common sense of the country itself.
Remember this, no matter what the media on either side tries to tell you:
Most Americans are not extremists.
BDD
