Even at 67, I find myself surprised by how my thoughts evolve. On the evening of November 5, as I watched Pennsylvania shift from blue to red on my TV screen in Toronto, I anticipated the usual anxiety that comes with such political changes. However, instead of dread, a sense of excitement washed over me.
What was going on? I’ve never been a fan of Trump. His oversized ego is constantly on display, and every word he utters seems to scream “look at me.” He lacks sophistication, charm, or any real gravitas. And his moral standing is something I’d rather not delve into.
Despite this, I couldn’t deny the unexpected feeling stirring within me: my subconscious seemed to be cheering him on. I, of all people, was finding myself supporting him. It made no sense — was I losing my grip on reality?
The rise of DEI initiatives led to an overwhelming sense of societal pressure and demands for recognition
The next day, my son offered an explanation: “It’s not about Trump,” he said. “It’s about your frustration with the left.” And he nailed it. My growing discontent with the progressive left, which had started as a faint annoyance, had become a full-blown frustration.
It started in the spring of 2020, when anyone who questioned the wisdom of locking down society was mercilessly attacked. A simple thought — that perhaps the lockdowns could cause more harm than good — was enough to trigger a wave of condemnation.
Then came the widespread rise of “Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion” (DEI) initiatives. These movements spread from universities to boardrooms to social media. Every group, no matter how niche, demanded acknowledgment or “centering.” Two-spirit indigenous people, incarcerated individuals with HIV, nonbinary athletes — all had their lists of demands, expecting government solutions for their grievances.
The core of this movement is built upon two deeply flawed assumptions: first, that certain groups require perpetual assistance because of past injustices, a concept that some have aptly described as “the soft bigotry of low expectations,” and second, that any inequality between groups must be a direct result of systemic discrimination.
The enforcement mechanism of this ideology is cancel culture, which ensures that any challenge to these ideas is quickly silenced, revealing the true aim: stifling free speech. The constant framing of the world in terms of oppressors and victims, and the obsession with racial divides, has become exhausting.
Coleman Hughes, author of The End of Race Politics: Arguments for a Colorblind America, has stated that his racial identity is one of the least important aspects of who he is. I agree. I am uninterested in viewing people through the lens of identity politics.
Paul Kix, in an insightful article for The Free Press, writes about how progressives have turned against his interracial marriage. Friends who once celebrated his union now tell him that, as a white man, he can’t understand the experiences of his mixed-race children. It’s a heartbreaking betrayal.
The left’s assault on men — constantly labeling them as “toxic” — also troubles me. These attacks ignore the monumental contributions men have made to society, from the discovery of iron to the invention of the jet engine.
The absence of recognition for these accomplishments reveals an underlying misandry that is increasingly prevalent. Clearly, all of this had built up enough within me to subconsciously push me toward supporting Trump on that crucial November night.
Jonathan Haidt, in his book The Righteous Mind, argues that our responses to social and political events are shaped not by logical reasoning, but by deeply ingrained intuitions — what he refers to as “moral tastebuds.” Rational explanations for our preferences often come later, to justify what we already feel.
For me, my moral tastebuds, which had been repeatedly triggered by the growing intolerance and self-righteousness of the left, were pushing me to see the Democrats face consequences, even if it took a Trump victory to bring it about.
In the result of the election, I learned that I was not alone in my conflicted feelings. Many others shared the same guilty relief at the outcome, driven by the same underlying frustrations. As political commentator Wesley Yang put it: “I still feel foreboding about Trump… But my schadenfreude toward the Democrats is totally untrammeled. I wanted to see them pay a price for their derangements.”
