"Open the fuckin' strait, you crazy bastards, or you'll be living in hell!" ("Open the fucking strait, crazy scoundrels, or you will live hell!"). This delicate, diplomatic phrase was written by President Trump on Sunday on his network, Truth Social, surely with the intention of de-escalating the conflict and reaching a cordial and peaceful agreement. Jokes aside, how did we get here? Although the question seems simple, it is actually misleading, due to the evident nature of the answer: we have arrived here because a very clear majority of Americans voted for Trump, knowing perfectly well what they were doing. Consequently, the question is another, and it turns out to be a bit uncomfortable: why did many vote for a character who, as in the case of numerous Latin Americans, went against their interests in a clear, explicit, unambiguous way? In politics, social groups do not vote solely based on their material interests, but on a broader framework of identity, emotional, or symbolic factors. This explains why certain segments —such as the aforementioned Latin Americans, impoverished white workers from the Rust Belt, or certain religious minorities— could support options that, from an external perspective —I mean, European—, seemed little or not at all coherent with their objective needs. Here and in the United States, everywhere, identity can weigh more than the economy in certain circumstances. Many voters make a decision based on who they believe they are (not who they are in reality), or on what (subjective) threats they perceive. A common case is the totally illusory identification with the middle class. There are other factors, though. For some North Americans of Cuban, Venezuelan, or Nicaraguan origin, for example, any discourse that evokes the specter of the socialism that drove them from their country had, and has, an immediate emotional impact, regardless of the specific policies it entails. When voting becomes catharsis, programmatic coherence ultimately ceases to be determinant. To this is added a —let's say— aspirationalism: many citizens do not vote for their current situation, but for what they imagine they could achieve.
How did we arrive at Trump's wild outbursts? In a polarized and primal media ecosystem, communication style can weigh as much as content, or even more. A leader who speaks without filters, who even uses swear words in public, can be perceived as more authentic than a traditional politician, and this (pseudo)authenticity generates support in groups that feel ignored or disdained by cultural elites. Disinformation and social media trends, moreover, reinforce fears, myths, and distorted perceptions while consolidating very specific political options. Within this landscape, the anti-gender discourse, which is one of the most important keys to Trump's resounding victory, has played a relevant role as a vector of mobilization. For certain sectors —including a growing number of evangelical or Pentecostal Latin American voters—, gender issues are not perceived as technical debates, but as symbols of a cultural battle over the family. In a climate of polarization, these issues become identity markers: "us" versus "them." For some voters, taking a strong stance on gender issues is also a test of authenticity: a rejection of political correctness and an affirmation of speaking plainly. As also happens in Europe, gender issues are perceived by some as a mere ideology, an identity threat, and a set of educational impositions, which amplifies the sense of urgency and reinforces support for candidates who promise to stop these changes.The question in the title, then, has a quite clear answer. However: "Until when will his graces laugh at him?", one wondered the other day
