The Unexpected Consequences of My 2016 Trump Vote

I am a Chinese woman, a daughter of immigrants, who voted for Donald Trump in the 2016 presidential election. It is almost a secret, though I sometimes offer up the confession like it is penance.
I cried driving away from my polling place and sobbed on a futon when he won. My chest was tight, my stomach churned, my face was hot — all blood and breath and acid had conspired inside me to signal alarm. I immediately hated my choice, but I did not yet believe it to be wrong. I had bought into the lesser-of-two-evils arc, with 'But her emails!' still echoing in my mind to assure me that this was the only option.
Earlier that fall, my church had just launched a new 'Adopt A College Student!' ministry. It was imagined as a mentorship and fellowship opportunity for the young adults in our congregation, a chance to share coffee and do laundry. We were invited to apply for the program, so that we could prayerfully be matched up with an adoptive family. I learned the family of one of our church's pastors had requested to be paired with me, and this thrilled me. I had secretly hoped to be matched with them, and I loved a narrative in which I was chosen.
My eagerness to sign up for anything that promised me love was what had brought me to church in the first place. The messaging was direct. They had cornered the market on love, and all I needed to do was say yes. The love would turn out to be a gimmick to get me signed up for the real program, one that I was even more primed to receive, and that I believed was simply the precursor to how to be loved: how to be good.
In addition to a behavioral and ideological rulebook, white evangelical culture provided me with one other thing I'd been chasing after my whole life: an entry point into dominant white culture. I wanted to un-other myself and believed that I could assimilate myself into safety, power, and love.
A deep sense of un-belonging had been with me since my earliest memories. When I was little, kids would ask me why my eyes weren't more Chinese — the asker would drag their own eyes out to the edges of their face in a sliver. I never had an answer but took it as a mercy that I was less Chinese than I could have been.
At my Baptist preschool, my favorite teacher, who had long brown hair that I loved to play with, asked me one day what the Chinese word for hair was. I answered, 'Tóufa' — and then it became my nickname for the rest of my years there. I internalized these differences as things that made me special, but over time this morphed into two beliefs: I was only as special as I was separate; and in this showcase of separation was where I was most likely to be endeared.
In church, I learned to further capitalize on this difference, twisting the isolation into testimony. I had felt much pain related to my Chinese identity, and the church was ready to pin Chinese culture as the culprit and this American gospel as the solution — as salvation.
I had grown up in a family that was not apolitical but that had not considered politics from a perspective that I could understand. My parents were Chinese immigrants who'd grown up during the Cultural Revolution and come to the United States following the Tiananmen Square massacre, and who'd told me exactly none of this over the course of my years at home. I was in high school when I learned about the massacre on the internet and in my 20s when I thought to ask my mother if she had been in Beijing when it happened (she had been).
Once, after a fifth-grade civics lesson, I wondered whether my parents were Democrats or Republicans, and I asked my neighbor down the street what she thought: Which was better, and which were my parents? She said my dad was probably a Republican because he owned a small business. Then she shared that she was a Republican, too. I remember feeling a frivolous pride teaching my parents the Pledge of Allegiance when they were preparing to become citizens, like it was my little American trick. The first time they voted in a presidential election, I was surprised. I knew they could, but it hadn't occurred to me that they would. They still felt so un-American to me, and U.S. politics felt like it didn't belong to them, or to us.
Over the next few years, I felt a growing sense that I both should and shouldn't find my place in political conversations around me. In churched spaces, the prevailing message was that politics were bad, divisive, and a scheme, but still, there was an unspoken alliance. I don't remember learning Christian nationalism, but one day it was just there, the innate understanding that Christians were Republicans, that liberalism was bad, and that it was good to root for our beliefs to be everybody's beliefs.
The church I attended had an American flag on the stage, the children said the Pledge of Allegiance before AWANA, and on more than one occasion, we sang about God and country during Sunday worship, declaring our patriotism through choruses of 'America, America, God shed his grace on thee.' My public school invited students to church lock-ins with the aim of proselytization, refrained from Halloween festivities, prayed before sporting events, and I had come to receive this breakdown of church and state as a blessing. By the time the 2016 election rolled around, I had spent a lifetime in sacred and secular institutions that had braided moral uprightness with a message of Christian faith.
In the months leading up to the election, I spent a lot of time with the pastor's family who had 'adopted' me for the college student ministry. The wife, in particular, spoke frequently to me about politics. She shared her beliefs with a parental (and pastoral) authority on gun control and racism, and Hillary Clinton. She presented ideologies as an assumed commonality, sparing me the opportunity to react wrongly.
One day in the car, she shared her 'all lives matter' ethic with me at a stoplight on the way to pick up her daughter from dance. I tensed for a moment — and then we were talking about something else. By November, we had had so many conversations about Hillary Clinton that I knew she was not an option. I don't remember any conversations about Donald Trump.
My first time voting in a presidential election was when I was 21. I had spent my few previous adult years priding myself on being good and moral, while managing to stay outside of political schematics. An impulse to challenge the things that unsettled me had begun to creep in, but immediately I would assert that I didn't care about politics, that this thing I was bringing up wasn't that.
I had begun the psychic separation of church and state, knowing that I would legally support gay rights, even if doctrinally I couldn't. But I wasn't watching the news, and I wasn't engaging with the worst of Donald Trump. I had reduced him to nothing more than the option that was not Hillary Clinton. I knew that I had a duty to civic participation and that I couldn't leave this world completely up to chance, but I also believed that my citizenship was not of this world but another. I believed there was a spiritual superiority in staying above the anxiety of politics. It's true that this ideology I had built my life on had begun to fray, that I expressed unease over my plan to vote for Donald Trump, that I fought to justify it because I knew it wasn't justifiable. But nuancing my culpability wouldn't do a damn thing for the mistake I would make in the end.
A few months before the election, I had just for the first time considered whether or not I was a 'person of color.' I had watched a recording of a diversity roundtable segment from a popular Christian women's conference featuring people of color discussing race and the church, and two East Asian women were on the panel. Afterward, I asked my white roommate if I was a person of color and cracked a joke about whether or not yellow was a color. I knew I wasn't white, but I had been white-adjacent enough to believe that a racialized experience wasn't something that belonged to me. I had only ever heard race discussed in the contexts of Blackness and whiteness.
Recently, my only Asian American friend from high school shared that her prevailing memory of me was that I hated being Chinese and wished I was white. She remembers me saying this over and over again. I had always felt the categorical otherness of being Chinese in a town that was over 90% white and had so minute an Asian population that the category was often omitted altogether in census data (other times, it came in at a decimal below 1%). But I lacked a framework to make sense of it. I didn't yet understand white supremacy, or the model minority myth or even systemic racism. I didn't know that I was a person of color.
I instinctively hated what was hated in me, but even that felt like pointing at a ghost. How do you gather evidence when all the evidence is just ways you are quietly not there? The movies you are not in, the books, the TV shows. The way your history is omitted, but you can't cite what you don't know, you can only know what isn't yours, and the history you learn never is. You singularly fill the gap that accounts for your existence, because if you haven't learned about you, then surely they haven't either. They ask you about your eyes or your food or your parents' names, but it's all in good faith (except when it's not). The systems that are designed to restrain us — the ones that succeed without our ever seeing them — breed a particularly maddening brand of self-hatred.
Following the election, the bubble of white-adjacent privilege I had quietly kept myself in popped overnight. All of the good behavior in the world couldn't save me from the pain that was now presented to me as my birthright. People I loved had received a blanket permission slip to say out loud any abhorrent things they had believed all along. Oftentimes racist ideology was shared with me with no awareness of its implication on me at all.
I'd spent so many years trying to convince white people and myself that I was one of them, and I'd almost done it. I'd prided myself on being the kind of Asian you could make Asian jokes to, ask your racist questions to. I beat people to the punchline for a quick laugh. I cracked jokes about pretending to be everybody's adopted Chinese daughter; one year, I wound up in three different families' church directory photos as a gag. I'd spent my life allying with whiteness, and I couldn't believe now how it had betrayed me.
When I share now that I voted for Trump in 2016, it drops like a bomb every time. People who didn't know me then are shocked because it feels aggressively counter to every value I hold now. People who did know me then just never clocked me as particularly Republican, and so even 'voting for the platform' doesn't quite explain what I did because was I ever so against abortion?
When I told my therapist a few weeks ago, she gasped and immediately asked me, 'Why?' The truth of the moment of decision is not particularly interesting or compelling. 'I was told I had to,' feels cheap and off-kilter. My understanding of that political era is so different now than it was then that it is hard for me to access my actual beliefs from that time. What did I truly believe about Hillary Clinton? How little did I think about my decision as my own before I cast it on a ballot? Most of my close white evangelical friends sat the election out because they said they just couldn't vote for him, and they couldn't vote for her. How, then, had I reconciled the cognitive dissonance that was voting for Donald Trump?
The short answer is, I didn't. The longer one is that two primary impulses compelled me to my vote: the desire to stay loved and the desire to stay close to whiteness — both repackaged as a desire to please God. I didn't believe Trump would get me any closer to these things, but I thought compliance might. I don't know what I really believed about the stakes of that election or the platforms of the candidates (though my body gave me signs I had betrayed myself immediately after I voted), but I do know that I truly believed that the church was the reigning authority on love. This belief, paired with my pleasing tendencies and my insecurities, made me incredibly susceptible to the church's ideological mandates. I felt like I had snuck into the group and had so much to lose. I wanted to stay trusted and to be seen as good, and I believed them when they told me how to do it.
I wonder sometimes how long it would have taken me to get here had Trump not won the election in 2016. My story of regret is not unique, and neither is it noble. I allied with whiteness until it had nothing left to offer me. I was swayed by the church's authority on love not because of how I hoped the church might dispense love to others but because of how I hoped it might dispense love to me.
I still live in the same small, white, churched town in West Virginia. Everyone I love either loves someone who voted for Trump or is someone who voted for Trump. I worry that there is a parallel universe in which I did again, too — in which I am a completely different person because I remained allied with power.
I have laid down much at the altar of white supremacy, but if Trump's first term gave me nothing else, it gave me an ultimatum. I am not grateful to have made the mistake of voting for Donald Trump in 2016, and I am not grateful for anything that has come from his politics or his presence, but I am grateful for the other side of a crisis point.

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Learn with AIFact CheckingText to SpeechAI Summary

Related Articles

CNN

42 minutes ago

• CNN

Analysis: Western diplomats welcome two-week breather to ‘explore what is possible' on Iran's nuclear program

European negotiators are welcoming US President Donald Trump's announcement that he will make a decision on US military action in Iran within two weeks, telling CNN it offers 'breathing space' and 'a diplomatic window' that could get Iran back to the negotiating table. Speaking ahead of nuclear talks between top European and Iranian officials in Geneva, Switzerland, one Western European diplomat told CNN that 'ideas' would be presented to Iran 'to see if there is room for maneuver and to explore what is possible.' The diplomat refused to be drawn on specifics but reiterated that the crux of the matter remained Iran's controversial uranium enrichment program and that the talks would focus on 'what kind of compromise would be feasible' on that issue. But enrichment — which Iran says it needs for peaceful purposes, while also manufacturing large quantities of near-weapons-grade material — is a major sticking point, with the Trump administration vowing that any agreement with Iran would have to entirely prohibit the country from enriching any nuclear material. For decades, Iran, which denies it intends to build a nuclear weapon, has categorically refused to give up its capabilities — instead plowing billions of dollars into refining the technology and constructing vast enrichment facilities, like the secretive Fordow installation, which is built deep underground inside a mountain. After launching its first wave of strikes on Iran, Israel pointed to a recent report by the International Atomic Energy Agency, which acknowledged Iran is enriching uranium to a higher level than other countries without nuclear weapons programs, in violation of its nuclear non-proliferation obligations. But after more than a week of intensive Israeli airstrikes, which has seen Iran lose large parts of its enrichment program, the Islamic Republic's hardline calculations may eventually change, the Western European diplomat told CNN. 'Because Iran is now under immense military pressure, it might run out of options, and their nuclear capability is being degraded,' the diplomat said. Until Trump's decision to allow diplomacy another shot, the Geneva talks had looked like a European sideshow, with the US seemingly poised to join with Israel in the destruction of Iranian nuclear facilities. The meeting, between the EU's foreign policy chief, alongside the British, French and German foreign ministers and their Iranian counterpart, is now taking on greater significance, setting the stage for next steps and possibly acting as a bridge between Iran and the United States. But there is an underlying fear in Geneva that the reinvigorated talks here, the first formal meetings with Iranian representatives since the escalation of the Israel-Iran conflict, will still go nowhere. Even Trump's announcement of a two-week window may be a ploy by the mercurial American president to play for time, the Western European diplomat told CNN, while US military forces are assembled and readied for the 'big gamble' of a military intervention that 'could inflame the region.' 'It's impossible to read anything Trump says because there is a daily barrage of statements,' the diplomat added.

Newsweek

an hour ago

• Newsweek

US's NATO and Pacific Allies Sail Warships Near China's Coast

Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. The United Kingdom and Japan—United States allies in NATO and the Pacific respectively—have sent naval ships through the Taiwan Strait, which China has long claimed sovereignty over. Regarding the passage of the British patrol vessel HMS Spey on Wednesday, the Chinese military described it as "undermining peace and stability" across the 110-mile-wide waterway. Newsweek has emailed the Chinese and Japanese defense ministries for further comment. Why It Matters Communist China has declared its "sovereignty, sovereign rights, and jurisdiction" over the Taiwan Strait, which separates its territory from Taiwan and connects two contested seas—the East China Sea and the South China Sea—making it a strategic waterway. Despite never having ruled Taiwan—a security partner of the U.S.—the Communist regime in Beijing has long claimed the self-governed, democratic island as one of its provinces. Xi Jinping, leader of China, has vowed to use force to achieve "reunification," if necessary. As military tensions between China and Taiwan have grown in recent years, the U.S. and its allies and partners have frequently conducted naval and aerial passages through the Taiwan Strait, asserting freedoms of navigation and overflight in accordance with international law. What To Know The Spey—a Royal Navy vessel deployed to the Indo-Pacific region—navigated the Taiwan Strait, according to Taiwanese media citing the British Office in Taipei. Prior to the transit, the ship conducted joint patrols in the East China Sea with the U.S. Coast Guard. The British Office stated that the passage was conducted in accordance with the rights granted under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea. Taiwan's Foreign Ministry said the transit reaffirmed the strait's status as what it calls "international waters." The Royal Navy patrol vessel HMS Spey is moored pier side during a scheduled port visit at Sasebo naval base in Japan on June 5, 2025. The Royal Navy patrol vessel HMS Spey is moored pier side during a scheduled port visit at Sasebo naval base in Japan on June 5, 2025. Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Kristen Yarber/U.S. Navy The Chinese military's Eastern Theater Command, which oversees military affairs related to Taiwan, confirmed the Spey's transit in a statement on Friday. It claimed its units tracked and monitored the ship in the Taiwan Strait, handling the situation "effectively." This was not the first time a British warship has sailed through the Taiwan Strait. In September 2021, the frigate HMS Richmond—deployed to the western Pacific with an aircraft carrier group—transited the waterway en route to Vietnam after operating in the East China Sea. Meanwhile, Japanese destroyer JS Takanami passed southward through the Taiwan Strait on June 12, Japanese media reported on Thursday, citing unspecified "diplomatic sources." The transit, which was tracked and monitored by the Chinese military, lasted over 10 hours, according to the report. The Japanese warship entered the strait from the East China Sea and proceeded to the Philippines, where it conducted a drill in the South China Sea on June 14. A Philippine naval helicopter hovers above the Japanese destroyer JS Takanami during a joint maritime exercise held in the South China Sea on June 14, 2025. A Philippine naval helicopter hovers above the Japanese destroyer JS Takanami during a joint maritime exercise held in the South China Sea on June 14, 2025. Kyodo via AP Images While the Japanese government does not officially acknowledge naval transits through the Taiwan Strait, the June 12 transit marked the third known passage by Japan's navy. The previous two occurred in September last year and February this year, the report added. What People Are Saying The British Office in Taipei told Taiwanese media on Thursday: "Wherever the Royal Navy operates, it does so in full compliance with international law and exercises its right to freedom of navigation and overflight provided by [United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea]." The Taiwanese Foreign Ministry said in a statement on Thursday: "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs encourages like-minded countries such as the United Kingdom to jointly defend peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait, promote a free and open Indo-Pacific, and maintain a rules-based international order." Senior Captain Liu Runke, navy spokesperson for the Chinese People's Liberation Army (PLA) Eastern Theater Command, said in a statement on Friday: "The troops of the PLA Eastern Theater Command will remain on high alert at all times and resolutely counter all threats and provocations." What Happens Next It remains to be seen whether other U.S. allies and partners—both within and beyond the Pacific—will deploy warships to the Taiwan Strait, as China continues to maintain a persistent military presence around Taiwan.

UPI

an hour ago

• UPI

On This Day, June 20: Arctic Circle reaches record-setting 100 degrees

1 of 5 | On June 20, 2020, the town of Verkhoyansk, Russia, reached a temperature of 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit, the highest temperature ever recorded in the Arctic Circle. File Photo by Anatoli Zhdanov/UPI | License Photo On this date in history: In 1893, a jury in Fall River, Mass., acquitted Lizzie Borden in the ax murders of her father and stepmother. In 1898, the U.S. Navy seized Guam, the largest of the Mariana Islands in the Pacific, during the Spanish-American War. The people of Guam were granted U.S. citizenship in 1950. In 1900, in response to widespread foreign encroachment upon China's national affairs, Chinese nationalists launched the so-called Boxer Rebellion in Beijing. In 1945, Secretary of State Edward Stettinius, Jr. approved the resettlement of Wernher von Braun and his team of Nazi rocket scientists to the United States. Von Braun would go on to lead the U.S. space program. File Photo courtesy of NASA In 1963, the United States and Soviet Union agreed to establish a hot line communications link between Washington and Moscow. In 1967, the American Independent Party was formed to back George Wallace of Alabama for president. In 1977, oil began to flow through the $7.7 billion, 789-mile Trans-Alaska Pipeline. In 1988, armed forces commander Lt. Gen. Henri Namphy declared himself leader of Haiti in a military coup overthrowing President Leslie Manigat. In 1991, the German Parliament voted to move its capital from Bonn to Berlin. In 2004, Pakistan and India reached agreement on banning nuclear testing. In 2009, insurgents, striking in a series of attacks as U.S. troops pulled out of Iraq as planned, set off a truck bomb near a Shiite mosque in northern Iraq, killing 82 people and injuring 250. In 2010, Juan Manuel Santos easily defeated former Bogota Mayor Antanas Mockus to become Colombia's president. File Photo by Kevin Dietsch/UPI In 2020, the town of Verkhoyansk, Russia, reached a temperature of 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit, the highest temperature ever recorded in the Arctic Circle. In 2023, Romanian authorities charged self-styled lifestyle coach and social media personality Andrew Tate and his brother, Tristan Tate, with rape and human trafficking. As of 2025, the brothers were expected to stand trial on the charges. File Photo by Robert Ghement/EPA-EFE