A hush fell over the crowd at Madison Square Garden. Exhilarated after hours of preliminary bouts, the stadium was hungry for the main event. Stragglers, celebrities, and mixed martial arts enthusiasts took their seats, and the air filled with the kind of excitement only felt on the eve of the first day of vacation, the last day of school, or Christmas.
The lights grew dim. I had heard rumors that he would be here. Regardless, I could have never prepared for what happened next. The speakers blared Kid Rock; the screens flashed eagles and American flags; the spotlight showed Dana White, Elon Musk, and RFK; and President-elect Donald Trump strutted into the Garden.
The crowd burst into a victorious roar, months of pent-up apprehension released in a triumphant ovation, and the masses cheered for what seemed like an eternity. Trump’s walkout could have easily been interpreted as the main event of the evening, and gave a patriotic spirit to the entire night.
It was my friend’s 19th birthday. The crowd, like us, were young men eager to see the MMA gladiators go toe to toe; there were maybe 12 women in the whole arena, half of them UFC fighters themselves. The habits of “bros” were on full display: excessive beer drinking, confrontations sometimes resulting in fights, and delirious sports betting.
I looked around. Most of these people, more or less similar to myself, clearly idolized Trump. I had never felt attracted to Trump and was appalled by many of his ideas. But what made some of the other young men of America — from frat guys to finance bros to gym enthusiasts — so receptive to our President-elect?
Heading up to the election, I wrote about how Trump had convinced many young men in my generation, a group now being dubbed “the bro vote,” that they were no longer equal, and that Kamala Harris did not care for their futures. Now, the die has been cast. Statistics show that 49 percent of young men voted for Trump in November, representing a 22-point shift from 2020 — and a major problem for Democrats moving forward. So what, specifically, can they do to recapture the hearts of America’s young men, and what have they struggled with so far?
For the latter question, my answer lies in what I felt from Harris’s campaign, which was that she was asking me and my fellow bros to vote on someone else’s behalf. This strategy works — fathers who vote on behalf of their daughters as they watch their rights melt away, or Americans who vote on behalf of innocent Ukrainians as their sovereignty is encroached — but only sometimes. And I felt that Harris overly relied on the bros and our “on behalf of” votes to turn out in droves in November.
To liberals, Trump was a monster. But to bros, he hadn’t done much to offend us in particular. So, when Harris focused on Trump’s hateful rhetoric, his attacks on abortion, and the rights of minorities, many were left asking: Why should I care? And when liberals responded with the expectation to vote on behalf of others, again, many were left asking: What about me?
To recapture the hearts of young men, the liberal culture surrounding political messaging must change. From my perspective, Trump appealed to many young men because supporting him was a form of protest. In classic young-American style, our generation resisted the mantra placed onto us by corporations, celebrities, and schools: Trump was bad, and woke was good. Yet Trump was cool, strong, and the status quo in many places — as much of a result of young-blooded resistance than anything else.
For me in particular, society as a whole has long been demanding that I don’t push the red button. And because I’m not supposed to push the red button makes it oh so attractive — an attraction I was swayed by until taking a political ideologies class. So perhaps the answer lies in education surrounding the red button. If we stop saying “Don’t push the button,” and instead say “You can push the button, but if you do, then an unqualified scandalous TV host will have the responsibility to oversee the Department of Defense,” then maybe we’ll be less inclined to push it. So please, teach us how to think, not what to think.
Another path forward for Democrats lies in connecting with young men on the same level as they’ve connected with young women. The gender split in this year’s election was profound; Pennsylvania saw a 62-point gap between young men and women, a trend that reflected on the national stage with a 29-point gap. This indicates that Harris was for the girls, and Trump was for the bros — but why does it have to be this way? Why does Harris have to be “brat” and go on the ‘Call Her Daddy’ podcast, but Trump gets to go on with Joe Rogan and attend UFC events? It would have been awesome to see Harris link up with Dave Portnoy at the Michigan vs Texas football game or to see Willie Nelson, Travis Scott, or Leonardo DiCaprio at a rally. It’s not like Harris didn’t try — the endorsement of Arnold Schwarzenegger was big for the bros — but a more equally represented campaign would have done wonders for young male voters.
Then again, it’s not like Harris fumbled the White House. Trump’s populism was effective and earned him all three branches of government. His style resonated amongst my generation, and his victory emboldened those who feel they can operate above society — especially behind the mask of the internet.
I worry that attitude will stick. I worry that young men will continue to perpetuate misogyny and romanticize exploitation. But I worry the most that Trump’s imprint on our generation will survive him, and the political gender division, populist nationalism, and disfigured American conservatism are here to stay in Generation Z.
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