Conservatives often mock liberals for inventing the concept of safe spaces, places on college campuses where students can express themselves without fear of being made to feel uncomfortable or unwelcome.
But conservatives have their own safe spaces. And in the Trump era, none is safer than a Trump rally.
We experienced our first Trump rally in early October. It took place in Rochester, Minn., the heart of the Upper Mississippi River Valley, where the pivot from former President Barack Obama to President Trump helped deliver the 2016 election to the upstart Republican and where support for Trump remains strong.
We’d been advised to arrive several hours early, because the Trump campaign typically gives away too many tickets, leaving thousands to watch his speeches in overflow rooms or on large TVs outside the venue. Even those who don’t make it in are usually glad they came. An elderly woman later told us that though she hadn’t made it into the arena, she was still glad she came. “It was a highlight of my year,” she said.
We were among the few attendees not wearing Trump gear. That made us stand out enough that someone on the bus shuttle to the Mayo Civic Center looked us over and whispered to another passenger that he thought he’d found a couple of “double agents.”
Standing in a line that winded its way up and down several city blocks and alleys three hours before Trump was scheduled to speak, we met Stephanie and April, two young women wearing elaborate costumes that made it look as if they were sitting on the president’s shoulders.
In between posing for photos with other Trump fans, Stephanie told us that the inspiration for the costume came from her belief that the president is carrying the country on his shoulders. “Trump is literally changing our country single-handedly,” she said.
Stephanie said that she’d had no interest in politics until her son’s birth a few years ago. But surveying the political landscape, she didn’t see many politicians she could trust to create a world safe for him to grow up in. She thought Trump was atrocious as a TV personality. But as a presidential candidate, she was immediately drawn to his candor and honesty. “I just was so moved that I instantly started supporting him,” she said.
As we were about to enter the civic center, a Secret Service agent approached Stephanie, prompting her to quickly tear off a “Q” sticker she’d attached to her costume and pitch it into a pile of garbage. She explained that the Secret Service was keeping a close eye on rally-goers, making sure nobody was conspicuously sporting the letter “Q.” Q refers to QAnon, an online personality who traffics in bizarre conspiracy theories about how the so-called “Deep State” is trying to thwart Trump.
For hours before Trump was scheduled to speak, attendees jostled for the best position on the floor in front of the stage and lectern as ’70s and ’80s music blared at high decibels.
During the 2016 campaign, Trump rallies were reported on primarily in terms of the violence that would sometimes break out at them or the falsehoods, misstatements, and attacks Trump would utter while basking in the adulation of his fans.
But there was something powerful happening in those rallies that the media missed. To Trump’s supporters, his rallies were safe spaces where they didn’t have to hide their support for Trump. They could wear their Trump gear without fear of being ridiculed or attacked. The rallies helped to cultivate solidarity among his supporters.
This is something we’ve learned in speaking with Trump supporters across the country over the last year and a half for our reporting project, “Into Trump’s America.” One man described how the “family-like atmosphere” at a pre-2016 election Trump rally in Syracuse, N.Y., created a strong sense of belonging. “It was just cool to see so many like-minded people come together,” he said.
According to the New York Times, Trump has held more than 500 rallies since 2015. During the 2016 campaign, many were held in places overlooked by other political candidates but that proved to be crucial to Trump’s victory — places like Macomb County, Mich., and Erie County, Pa.
Smartly, as Trump has continued to hold rallies and they continue to have a galvanizing effect on his supporters.
Last June, we met Rachel Gooder of Howard County, Iowa, who’d attended her first Trump rally the night before. “He was so easy-going,” Gooder said of the president. “It was almost like he was talking to us, and not giving a speech.” She continued:
Attending his first Trump rally in Erie last week, Ali Dawood said it was a “big [moment] in my life” and one he’ll never forget. “You could feel the power of the enthusiasm, incredible moment when the president walked onto the stage,” he wrote to us afterwards.
Dawood attended with his wife, Jasmine. The Dawoods are Muslim immigrants from Iraq who recently became U.S. citizens. Jasmine said the rally made her very proud to be an American and “made me feel it’s really one of my responsibilities to take care of my country and make America great again!”
At the Mayo Civic Center, we spoke with Andrea, a young woman wearing a T-shirt that said, “Trump 2020: Fuck your feelings.” She dismissed the idea that Trump is anti-woman, explaining that she’d once worked for a construction company where she regularly heard comments bawdier than those Trump has made about women. “I think women talk worse than he does,” Andrea said. “I know I do.”
Andrea and her two girlfriends complained that political disagreements since the 2016 election had alienated them from some friends and family members. “Oh yeah, my daughter went out on a date with a boy last night,” one of Andrea’s friends said, pointing to her daughter standing sheepishly off to the side. “And he just found out she was at the rally, and he sent her a [text message] saying ‘taken.’”
Another woman said that her aunt was at the rally protesting against Trump, while her niece was there as a supporter. “It’s just it’s divided a lot of family members,” she said.
After hours of waiting, the crowd erupted when Trump emerged just after 6:30 p.m. His backdrop was a giant U.S. flag flanked by banners reading “Promises Made” and “Promises Kept.”
Walking on stage to Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.,” Trump spent a few minutes soaking up the energy of his fans. He waved and applauded along with them.
Trump’s rally speeches typically last an hour or so and follow a common formula that includes reminiscing about his 2016 election win, touting his achievements as president, and lambasting the media assembled directly in front of him.
The president is now in the middle of a pre-midterm election blitz of more than two dozen rallies in key cities. The candidates he’s stumping for are there to bask in the Trump spotlight, to benefit from his presence and popularity, and they know they are expected to spend most of their time heaping praise upon Trump. He brings those candidates on stage to say a few words. And then he attacks their opponents himself.
On this night, Trump went after Annie Craig, a Democrat running for Congress against Rep. Jason Lewis. “Who the hell is Angie Craig?” Trump shouted to cheers from the audience.
Trump also took shots at Rep. Keith Ellison, the Democratic candidate for Minnesota state attorney general and Al Franken, the former Democratic senator from Minnesota who resigned in January after accusations of sexual misconduct. Trump called Franken “a wacky guy” who folded “like a wet rag.”
After Trump’s speech, we spoke to a middle-aged man wearing a T-shirt inscribed with the word “Deplorable.” “I’m really proud of the president,” he said. He compared liberals’ response to Trump to how he once thought of former President Ronald Reagan. “I really didn’t like Reagan when I was younger,” he said.
Others we spoke with said they loved the rally’s carnival-like atmosphere. In June, Sandy Chilson told us she loved Trump’s tendency to go off script and speak his mind during rallies. Her husband, Chris, said that “a certain percentage [of attendees] are going for the same reason you go to a professional wrestling match.”
“Yeah, who’s jumping off the top rope?” Sandy added.
The Chilsons live in Lime Springs, Iowa, about an hour’s drive south of Rochester. They were thrilled to get VIP seats directly behind the president for this rally, their first. Chris brought his mother, Jane, and his 95-year-old grandmother, Dolly.
After the rally, we asked the two older women whether they enjoyed it.
Jane said, “Did I like it? I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest! So exciting. We were right behind him.”
“What did you like most?” we asked.
“I just plain loved him … his whole attitude,” Dolly said.
“The longer he’s in, the more I like him,” Jane added. “Honest to God … absolutely every day, I like him more.”
During the 2016 campaign, when Trump began playing The Rolling Stones’ song “You can’t always get what you want,” it revealed a hint of self-awareness. The song’s next line states, “But if you try sometime, you find you get what you need.”
Trump’s implicit message was that though he wasn’t what many Republicans wanted in a presidential candidate, he was offering something they and the country needed.
Trump continues to play this song to close out his rallies. But now, given Trump’s grip on the Republican Party and his record-high popularity among its voters, the song has taken on an ironic sheen. For almost all Republicans today, Trump is both what they need and what they want.
Daniel Allott and Jordan Allott are the authors of “Into Trump’s America.”
