Covering a Trump rally as a journalist
November 8, 2016. The day Trump was elected, the halls of my hyper-liberal high school were dead silent. Everyone was in mourning. A lot of people cried. The distress was understandable—people were terrified of what a Trump administration would mean for their safety and rights. As someone who was raised to stand in solidarity with marginalized groups, fear gripped me as well. It was unavoidable. It was our new reality.
One girl who I didn’t know very well came to school wearing a Make America Great Again shirt. She was bullied so brutally she ended up turning the shirt inside out by the end of the day. Even though I hated Trump—and thus was expected to hate this girl, too—I felt bad for her. It wasn’t until I was a few years deeper into my education that I became critical of environments that were “too” anything. My high school was “too” liberal—if you had any opinions that differed from the liberal agenda, you were immediately branded as racist, sexist, or homophobic. If you liked Trump, you were all of those things and worse.
People’s political ideologies at Colorado College are a bit more varied than they were at my high school, but they’re still similar. I’ve learned to be critical of my political environments, but sharing a viewpoint with the majority of the people around me means that I’ve always been in my comfort zone—I am a liberal wary of a too-liberal environment. Still, it’s difficult to be critical of your in-group without being immediately re-categorized as an outsider. We see this in the clash between Bernie-crats and more moderate liberals, whose identities are so intertwined in their politics that the shared goals of the Democratic Party are obscured. While this ideological rift between moderates and progressives grows, people living inside the Democratic bubble can lose sight of what the rest of the world is actually like.
I learned that Trump was coming to Colorado Springs when my Catalyst editor asked me and my friend Sam if we wanted to cover the Feb. 20 rally.
After registering for my rally press credentials, I was added to Trump’s online mailing list. His messages were too entertaining for me to unsubscribe. After the Democratic debate in Nevada (you know, the one where Warren clubbed Bloomberg over the head with a baseball bat), Trump sent this message out to his loyal followers:
“The Democratic Party is in the midst of a full-scale meltdown. Americans are watching the party of JFK be torn apart by anti-job socialists and anti-worker globalists who want to control every aspect of Americans’ lives. This train wreck is nothing compared to what they would do to our country. None of these candidates will be able to go toe to toe with President Trump in November.”
As ridiculous as I found this message, the “full-scale meltdown” Trump refers to is not far from reality. The Democratic Party is broken, maybe beyond repair, and it’s going to have to get its shit together really quickly in order to beat Trump. There is still disagreement over which candidate is right for the job, even after the DNC consolidated around Biden. Everyone thinks that they’re right and everyone else is shortsighted—though this is not unique to Democrats. There are substantial ideological differences within the Republican party as well. But at the end of the day, conservatives fight for preservation of the status quo by promoting limited government. Democrats, on the other hand, tend to seek to change the status quo with the expansion of governmental power. It’s much easier to bring a political party together with, for example, the rallying cry of “no new taxes.” Most Democrats want government to expand in one way or another—but there are a million different ways that could be done. Understandably, disagreement ensues.
One day, in my Introduction to Journalism class, I mention that Sam and I will be covering the Trump rally. Turns out that our professor, Corey Hutchins, is too. He’s a professional journalist, and he tells us that if we’re up for it, we can work with him and contribute to his story for “The Colorado Independent.” We make plans to get lunch on rally day so that we can talk about what to expect.
At Rastall, over a feast of lukewarm lasagna and potatoes, Corey tells me everything I need to know about covering the rally. I learn to approach people with the line, “Hi! I’m a student journalist for the local college. Do you mind if I bother you for a second?”
“Maybe don't lead with CC unless they ask,” Corey chuckles. And he’s right, given the assumptions the crowd will likely make about our openly liberal campus—I’ve heard that Colorado Springs locals refer to Cascade Avenue as “Hit a Hippie Highway.”
Sam, Corey, and I Uber to the rally together to avoid the task of parking. On the way there, Corey talks with the driver, an immigrant from Germany who got her U.S. citizenship so she could vote against Trump in 2020.
As soon as she says this, Corey switches into work mode: “Can I interview you?”
Sam and I sit in the backseat, listening to Corey and the woman talk. I want to say, I’m on your side! I hate Trump too! But I’m an objective journalist. Opinions? I don’t have them. I’m a professional.
When we arrive at the arena, I notice several protesters holding signs that say things like “Get Hate Out of Our State” and “Bump Trump.” The mass of Trump supporters ignores them. And there are a lot of Trump supporters. We aren’t even inside yet, and it’s already a sea of red.
We follow Corey to the media entrance. Security checks our IDs and gives us each a press pass. Sam and I walk through the crowded halls like kids at a zoo.
There are the classic MAGA shirts and hats. There are shirts with Trump’s updated slogan, Keep America Great. One of the ones that stood out the most said, “Trump 2020, The Sequel: Make Liberals Cry Again.” And then there are the signs: Trump & Pence 2020. Women for Trump. Latinos for Trump. Veterans for Trump. Everything Trump, Trump, Trump. The crowd is predominantly white, middle-aged couples. There are a lot of kids, and even some babies.
Trump loves Colorado Springs so much that he even brought Mike Pence with him. Senator Cory Gardner too, who rarely makes public appearances anymore due to the fact that basically everyone in Colorado hates him. (I looked into how Gardner funds his campaigns. Spoiler alert: the NRA.)
Sam and I follow Corey to the press pen, the cage of fences where they keep the media personnel. We set our bags and laptops down on the long, wooden tables. It’s about 2:30, and we have to be back in the pen by 4, so the time to talk with voters is now or never.
The first people Sam and I meet are Janet and Miguel Santana. They are a middle-aged couple hailing from South Bend, Indiana. Upon hearing this, my mind jumps to ex-presidential hopeful Pete Buttigieg. The Santanas tell us how the former mayor ran the town to its knees and caused unprecedented economic damage. Part of the reason they moved to Colorado Springs was to escape him, they say.
The next person we talk to is 69-year-old Lorraine Beham. Dressed in a red, white, and blue tie-dyed shirt from a Trump rally she attended in 2016, Beham has short white hair and sports a tiny silver necklace that says Live, Laugh, Love in cursive lettering. We tell her we’re student journalists for the local paper, and she asks, laughing, if we work for the Democratic Party. We assure her that we do not.
Beham tells us about her past and her professional life, how she has worked as a med tech for a hospital, a professional photographer, and a nature tour guide in Hawaii. She moved to Colorado Springs a few years ago to take care of her aging parents.
Lorriane has supported Trump from the very beginning. She appreciates that he’s an anti- establishment politician who has the courage to take on “the Illuminati, the globalists, the guys that ruined this world.” Interestingly enough, Lorraine admits that she voted for Obama in 2008 and 2012. She’s registered as an independent and always votes for who she thinks is the “best guy.”
“I hate to admit it, but I can’t stand Romney, so I voted for Obama,” Lorraine tells us. “It was the lesser of two evils for me. I can’t stand McCain either, so in that election I voted for crummy Obama too. I didn’t know better at first.
“I felt like Romney was crooked and he is. He’s a rhino. He’s Republican by name only, but he’s really a Dem. And he’s a globalist too, let’s face it.”
Sam and I talk with her for a good 15 minutes. The conversation flows organically—we’re both genuinely interested in what she has to say. Toward the end of the interview, she discloses her anti-abortion, anti-immigration views. I disagree with what she’s saying on a fundamental level but we let her talk, free of interruption. It is not as hard as I thought it would be to assume an unbiased persona.
In every interview, I ask people what their relationship with the news is like. An overwhelming majority of them say they get their news from Fox only. The rest of the media are liars, they frequently say. As I write this down feverishly in my notebook, they look a little sheepish and say something along the lines of, “Oh, I’m not talking about you specifically. Just the media.”
People like their congressman, but not Congress. They like their local newspaper, but not the media in general. It’s so easy to brand a whole group as being either good or bad. But when you examine that group closer, it’s not that simple.
Every single person I talk to at the rally is incredibly friendly to me. Every single one. They are happy to share their truths. In their eyes, Trump has done wonders for the economy. He’s created millions of new jobs, delivered on every single promise he made during his campaign, and then some. That said, I wonder how Sam and I might have been treated differently if we did not pass as white, cisgender individuals.
These people are so sure about the president’s accomplishments. I, on the other hand, am so sure his claims aren’t true. I am realizing now how difficult it is for people to work together when they subscribe to completely different versions of reality. How can we begin to possibly understand and compromise with one another if no one can agree on what is true and what is not?
Eventually, Pence comes on stage and riles up the crowd. At this point, the stadium is packed—there is not an empty seat in sight. The speakers are blaring rock music and everyone is ecstatic, cheering and jumping around. Some are even dancing. It feels a lot more like a party than a political event.
The energy and optimism in the room are a stark contrast to the current dreary pessimism of the Democratic party. In the Democratic debates, the main focus is always how to beat Trump. How half of the country is comprised of racist, sexist, homophobic assholes; how the U.S. is the laughing stock of the international stage; how Trump’s reckless Twitter use and poor decision-making skills have led us to the brink of mutually assured destruction by nuclear war. Trump’s approach is entirely different. His campaign is built on optimism and patriotism. That “patriotism” aligns with views used to oppress millions of people, but in his supporters’ eyes it’s all for the good of the country. Trump’s campaign focuses on everything great he has done during his first term—his revised campaign slogan, “Keep America Great,” says it all. The only thing standing between the nation and another economically prosperous four years are the “Do-Nothing Democrats” and the lying media that refuse to acknowledge Trump’s great accomplishments.
Trump walks out to the song “Proud to Be an American.” The crowd is chanting, “USA! USA!” with such intensity that it takes almost five minutes for everyone to quiet down. It’s strange to see Trump in person. He wears a yellow tie. He really is quite orange. His hands do look proportional to his body, though. I will give him that.
There’s one moment in the rally where Trump gets everyone riled up about the fake news media. How they’re all liars—the bane of the free world and democracy, all the usual stuff. The press pen is stationed on the stadium floor in the center of the crowd. We’re surrounded by a small metal fence. That’s it. The entire stadium, thousands of people, all turn to the press pen and start booing and jeering at us. It’s absolutely terrifying, but I refuse to let fear show on my face. Sam and I are standing near the edge of the pen and we make eye contact with Miguel, the man from South Bend who was the first person we interviewed. He’s really getting into the whole booing thing.
“The media sucks!” he shouts. “Fuck CNN!”
When he sees Sam and me, he smiles and waves excitedly.
When Trump brings up last night’s Democratic debate, his supporters erupt in laughter.
“The candidates were leaning so far left, I thought they were going to fall off the stage,” Trump says. He assures his supporters that there is no such thing as a moderate Democrat. They’re all socialists, even if some won’t admit it.
“So who won the Democratic debate?” Trump asks. After a moment of anticipated silence, Trump yells, “I won!” He’s met with the loudest cheer yet.
Democrats are much more out of touch with this large portion of the country than I thought. A victory against Trump will not be easy. At this point, I’m not even sure it’s likely—at all. I don’t know what this means for our country, but I do know that it’s going to be ugly.
I believe that Trump has a fighting chance in 2020. The people I surround myself with, and the media I engage in, are disproportionately left-leaning. I was—and still am—living in disillusionment.
The media is far too polarized to provide truthful information to the public. That isn’t to say that all of the blame should fall on journalists. News sources strive for objectivity without acknowledging that it might not even exist. Various media outlets present very different versions of the truth, each claiming their own version as the correct one. This leads people to believe that their own ideology reflects the “truth” and that the other side must be lying. The ideal of the “objective reporter” is dying, but people refuse to admit it. That’s the root of the problem.
I recently read a book about this issue called “The View From Somewhere” by Lewis Raven Wallace. His main argument is that the notion of objectivity in journalism is a myth. No one can view events from an objective stance, because everyone is inherently subjective. This claim isn’t radical. The controversial element of the book, however, is when Wallace argues that journalists should no longer concern themselves with striving for objectivity. He advocates for journalists to be transparent and disclose their biases in reporting, instead of pretending to be someone they’re not.
I was thinking about this book at the rally. I do believe that objectivity is a myth and that journalists should be transparent in their reporting. At the same time, many worry that if journalists provide such disclaimers, they could lose readership and influence.
I also know that if I had started my voter interviews with “Hi, I’m a Democrat and I think if you support Trump you’re a fucking idiot,” no one in their right mind would have talked to me. In this case, it was important for me to present as objective.
I’ve had a hard time making up my mind about which should be more important to a journalist: transparency or being regarded credible? Aren’t they, in essence, the same thing?
As a teenager, I was constantly told that the journalism industry was dying. It’s in economic trouble, for sure, but “dying” is overkill. As our political climate changes and distrust in the media explodes, the truth becomes harder and harder to find. Contemporary journalism now has a responsibility to navigate these changes and transform into something entirely new.
I imagine that the real truth—if it even exists—lies somewhere in the middle of the political spectrum. In a world filled with alternative facts and drastically different narratives on each side, it becomes harder to pinpoint exactly what this truth is. I’m not saying I have an answer to this problem. I don’t think anyone does.
It’s difficult to say what will happen in 2020. Whatever does, I know this—half of the country is going to be really, really pissed.
By Isabel Hicks
Art by Jessie Sheldon
Childhood Issue | May 2020