Emotions run high across America as voters reflect upon President Donald Trump’s first 100 days. Well let’s face it, emotions have been running high since at least Election Day, and rightly so, as this is the future of the country and everyone in it. But that’s where the unity ends. Stop and listen to people and you’ll hear some speak of pride, strength and passion. Others point to bigotry, fear and divisiveness. But not necessarily in the places you might think.
We traveled to the reddest states that stood firmly behind Trump; to the states that swung from Obama to Trump and helped him win, and to blue states that stayed Democrat.
We traveled to listen, to hear how the first days of Trump’s presidency have affected people’s lives, thoughts and dreams. Here’s what we found: hopes, fears and surprises.
Trump country beams with pride
Pete MacGibbon could not be more proud of President Trump.
“His first 100 days in office, I think he’s done better than the last three presidents that we’ve had,” he says with complete confidence. “Golly, I don’t think anybody could ask anymore of him. … I think the man’s doing great. I’m very proud of him.”
The retired General Motors worker lives in one of the reddest parts of Georgia, Dawson County, 90 minutes north of Atlanta. And he thinks Trump is exactly the man to take the country to the top.
“He’s done really well for himself, I figure he can do the same for us,” MacGibbon says. “He sure is helping the American worker. Buy American, work American, America first. I agree with that 100 percent.”
Besides jobs, ensuring American strength is vital to many Trump supporters. They list Iran and North Korea as key threats, and they feel like finally someone is standing up to the leaders of those countries.
Gordon Pirkle Sr., a former Democrat who now considers himself an independent, voted for Trump because he felt he was the right man to tackle domestic economic problems and foreign bullies.
“We gotta show them … we can’t have every little bitty country over here that wants to blow the world up having the same kind of power we got. So we better protect that,” he says, adding that tough talk could actually avoid another war.
Trump’s tough talk, specifically on Mexico, also attracted the attention of another voter, just one you might not expect.
Alberto Alejandre teaches Spanish at a public school in Des Moines, Iowa. He was raised in Mexico, came to the United States illegally and with his family got amnesty under a Ronald Reagan program. Since then his parents had been devoted Republicans, until Trump disparaged Mexicans.
But Alejandre was not put off.
“He did say some negative things about Mexico, that unfortunately as Mexicans we have to be honest with ourselves and recognize as true,” he says, referring to Trump’s comments about Mexican political corruption, or some criminals crossing the border.
Alejandre felt Trump went too far by insinuating most undocumented Mexican immigrants were trouble, but he does back deportation of criminals.
“Being in America is not a right, it is a great privilege,” Alejandre says.
Trump’s disrespectful talk and actions about women was almost too much for Stacey Moeller, a single mother, grandmother and coal miner in Wyoming. But his promise of jobs won her vote — and would again today.
“Nothing about him appealed to my personal sense, you know. And I was offended. But it was not about me. It was about the people I work with and the people I love and I had to make a choice that was bigger than me. And do what I did.”
Some people are surprised to learn who taxi driver Quinton Posey voted for. Finding a Trump voter in Alabama, even Birmingham, Alabama, is not hard. But Posey is gay. And black. Only 9% of African-Americans in the South voted for Trump. But Posey says Trump’s promise of change resonated.
“I mean, what do we have to lose? Why not try something different?” he says, saying recent policies have created a “welfare state” where everyone expects a handout. Instead, he’s hoping Republican values of personal responsibility can have an impact on urban communities changing themselves.
Hillary Clinton was never going to win his vote, he admits, as he blames her and former President Bill Clinton for mass incarceration of black Americans.
As for Trump? “I didn’t consider anyone else,” Posey says. “I thought, ‘That’s my guy.’ ”
Signs of ‘change’ or ‘disaster’ in swing states
There’s a lot of waiting and hoping in the cities and counties that gave Trump his upset win. In areas of Michigan, Ohio and Pennsylvania that delivered the biggest swings from Obama to Trump, people expect results. Forget perfect political prose, they needed a businessman to back manufacturing jobs or improve their quality of life.
J.P. Ducro says Trump’s promise of jobs is what he will ultimately be judged on. Especially in his county of Ashtabula, Ohio, which was once a thriving industrial area. Manufacturing jobs here have been disappearing at an alarming rate. Which is perhaps why this county swung more than 30 points from when President Obama trounced Mitt Romney in 2012 to Trump’s win in 2016.
Ducro won election, too — as county commissioner — and doesn’t care for Trump’s demeanor.
But he is banking on the President’s economic prowess to help bring resources to educate a younger workforce and give smaller companies tools to expand as the area tries to turn itself into more of a tourist destination.
“I like that things are happening, I like that there’s discussion,” Ducro says of Trump’s start in office.
But how would he grade Trump? “I think it’s really too early to tell,” he says.
Tony Debevc, a third-generation farmer and now owner of Debonne Vineyards in Ohio’s wine country, says he knows Trump isn’t perfect. But this registered Democrat still voted for Trump.
“He was the only guy there that showed signs of change,” Debevc says.
He believes Trump is beginning to send the right messages, but would prefer the President would “keep his mouth shut” and ego in check.
That’s one thing John Brunn can agree with. He is the lone Democrat to win office in Lake County, Michigan, an area that swung heavily for Trump.
So far, Brunn’s assessment of the presidency is simple: “It’s a disaster.”
But even he would be swayed if Trump could deliver jobs — especially well-paid ones — to Lake County, one of the poorest areas in the state.
Kameelah Rashad also has strong concerns, that rhetoric from the President could begin to normalize bigotry and hatred because she now sees it coming from the highest office in the land.
Rashad, the president of the Muslim Wellness Foundation in Philadelphia, may not harbor hopes that Trump will change, but she does think he brings opportunity.
“His presidency actually, I believe, is a catalyst for many great opportunities for conversation,” Rashad says.
Trump gives many chances for that, she notes, “from racism to xenophobia to domestic issues that plague us around education and incarceration.”
“We can take advantage of the moment if we choose.”
‘Resistance’ in deep blue America
Not much can change the minds of those who vehemently still wish Donald Trump was not President. But he is, and so they watch his every move with intense interest.
The sign outside the Rev. Corey Sanderson’s church in Greenfield, Massachusetts, says “Everyone is welcome.” He wishes that was Trump’s view. He fears for those of other faiths who talk of being harassed on the streets; Muslim children bullied in schools, insults hurled from cars and vandalism on temples nearby.
The administration is “trying to legislate this state-sanctioned bigotry,” he says, when he speaks of the travel ban.
The reverend worries it normalizes hate. But Sanderson tries to replace fear with solidarity and focus on the positives, like increased political involvement and action among outraged voters.
“He may be underestimating the power in the people and the sense of resistance against what he’s been doing,” Sanderson says.
There’s also big concern across heavily blue states when it comes to immigration. Especially for farmer Joe Del Bosque, the son of Mexican migrant workers, who worked as a boy in the fields picking melons and driving the tractor.
Sometimes, Trump’s language makes him cringe. He’s worried about both his bottom line and his workers.
Both could be under attack, he fears. Up to 80% of agriculture jobs in California’s Central Valley are held by undocumented workers; Del Bosque and other farmers say Americans won’t leave the city to take the work.
But now those immigrants are worried, and not turning up to farms. Del Bosque gets that. “When I look at these people it’s almost like looking at my ancestors,” Del Bosque says.
Without people to pick, though, produce cannot get to the stores. Prices will rise either if supply drops or wages have to rise to attract Americans. And that will affect shoppers.
Which is why Del Bosque proposes Trump come to his farm to see what it takes to feed America. If perhaps the billionaire could see on a personal level what it takes, maybe it would change how he thinks about policy.
Melissa Bagley also wishes Trump could consider her perspective.
The 34-year-old mother of five sons and one daughter sees a different crisis unfolding 3,000 miles away from Del Bosque’s farms. Her vantage point is from the streets of Baltimore.
She sees a climbing murder rate and faltering relations between police and the community. Combine that with a lack of public funding and resources for youth and you’ve got the components for a disaster, Bagley says.
“My city is screaming for help,” she says.
Donald Trump may not have been her pick for president. But when Trump promised on election night to be president for everyone, including the black community, she chose to take him at his word. She chose to be optimistic.
He hasn’t kept his promise to be a president for all of America, Bagley says.
“I don’t think he’s even addressed anything in the worlds of the black American people. I don’t think he’s taken the time,” Bagley says, vowing to help her city heal anyway. “We’re going to move forward with or without the President.”
A few words of advice for the President
Moving forward remains a key goal for the voters we found, though they differ on policy and personality. But many did join in one message to the President, albeit with different reasonings: Stop tweeting and do the work.
