My afternoon at Trump's Long Island rally

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After eight years of hearing about Trump rallies and the people who attend them, I finally decided to witness one. Well, to witness the parking lot outside of one, at least.

On Wednesday thousands of people from Long Island and the greater New York metropolitan area flocked to Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, NY for a chance to hear the former president incoherently ramble. On the heels of a second apparent assassination attempt on his life, Trump returned to the state of his birth to bark racist lies at off-duty NYPD cops and their families, and share his theory that God had specifically intervened to keep him alive.

Trump fans started lining up inside a serpentine maze of police barricades around 9am for an event scheduled to kick off at 7pm. I pulled up around 2pm with my friend Sami Sage, co-founder of Betches Media, and we parked at a McDonald’s across the street to avoid the long line of cars waiting to get into the sprawling lot. Also, easier to escape if need be.

Patches of pedestrians dotted the sidewalks along the main thoroughfare outside the parking lot gates as they trod towards the stadium. Vendors—who were noticeably a majority of the handful of people of color present—sold Trump merch, and a spray paint artist created custom works. (On our way out he was working on one of Trump flanked by two cats. I didn’t get a chance to ask the price.) I spotted a woman wearing a shirt that said “100% badass president.” 

As I crossed the six-lane boulevard to reach the entrance, I couldn’t help feeling unnerved. Was I choosing to enter a potentially perilous situation for no good reason?

Once inside the lot the first group I spotted was a few middle-aged women in bedazzled hats that simply said TRUMP. One bragged about how she owned the $400 golden Trump sneakers but wouldn’t wear them for fear of ruining them. Before I knew what was happening, I asked one of the women, “Did you make those hats yourselves?” She smiled wide and told me that they’d ordered them online in 2020. “Vintage!” another added. 

As I moved deeper into the lot towards the throngs of people, many of whom had been there for hours already, a sense of familiarity washed over me. For a Long Island native, it didn’t feel all that different than going to an Islanders hockey game in the early aughts when the team played there. I knew I could easily blend in—especially as a white woman.

Soon giant pickup trucks and trailers decked out in MAGA gear came into view, with the owners of the vehicles standing proudly out front as if showing off their prized pigs at the state fair. Not a trace of irony or embarrassment. Pure, unadulterated pride. 

On the main plaza there were hot dog and lemonade vendors, trucks for assorted cuisines, music and yes, lots and lots of merch. It was like Shakedown Street at a Grateful Dead show except replace dancing bears with the image of Trump being shot in the ear. Same setup, very different vibe.  

A two-man band played an anemic version of You’re a Grand Old Flag with the drummer dressed like he was moonlighting after signing the Declaration of Independence and the guitarist wearing a t-shirt that read “Ashli Babbitt MURDERED” along with an illustration of the deceased January 6th insurrectionist. Between the two men were t-shirts for sale meant to look like the black and white POW flag but instead of “MIA” it read “J6 2021.” Pedestrians walked by without a second thought.

Over by the port-a-potties, Sami attempted to interview a woman with a deep tan and heavy makeup about what brought her to the rally. She demurred, saying she’d rather not be recorded, but as she walked away added with a mischievous smile, “I mean he won the last election, didn’t he?” Behind the toilets stood tables for VIP check in, with multiple lines of people neatly and calmly waiting for their turn.

Sami then interviewed a Long Islander in his early 20s decked out in American flag overalls and a straw hat, holding a lit cigar. When asked about the horrible rumors Trump was spreading about Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, he said he had a video that proved it was true. But when he pulled it up for us, it was just footage of an arrest, but for what was unclear. He answered Sami’s questions fully and politely, and it put into perspective that the people here for the most part weren’t political supporters but purely fans. He couldn’t articulate his feelings on any particular policy position but he could drag his ass to a hot parking lot to show his love for Trump. At the end of the day though, his vote counts just as much as yours and mine.

sami

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I always expected that outside a Trump rally there would be some sort of palpable overwhelming feeling: Fear? Rage? Passion? Excitement? But what struck me most was the quiet mundanity of it all; how aside from the music being pumped through the speakers and played by the band, a uniform hush blanketed the crowd of thousands. In retrospect it made sense, because this is how Trumpism and its many strains most frequently manifest in the world. Rarely is it a guy screaming racial slurs on a street corner, but a neighbor quietly putting out a lawn sign or commenting on how the demographics of the neighborhood have “changed.”

Without the shirts, hats and flags, you’d be forgiven for mistaking the throngs of orderly white suburbanites outside a stadium as the crowd for a Creedence Clearwater Revival reunion show. In the face of smiles and pleasantries and free swag I had to remind myself that they were gathered to support a presidential ticket that would make some Klansmen blush. They are people who believe in the absolute darkest version of America, electing to take a whole day in the middle of the week to pledge allegiance to their dear leader. 

As I got dressed that morning I imagined the rally attendees finding out I was a Democrat, and even worse, a journalist, and chasing me out of the lot. I wore a black tank top, black shorts and white sneakers to appear as unremarkable as possible. But in reality, no one gave me a second look. I was just one in a sea of many [mostly white] faces, and they just assumed I was one of them. I didn’t say I was a reporter, but when I asked strangers questions they just assumed I was one of them. Much like the Olive Garden, when you’re here, you’re family. 

Part of the reason I dared to go to this event was that it struck me as highly unusual for a candidate from either party to be holding a rally in New York this close to Election Day. Republicans may have over-performed on Long Island in 2022, resulting in the election of infamous former Congressman George Santos, but the idea of a red New York remains a pipe dream. 

My decision to not go inside the actual rally was two-fold: one, I didn’t want to spend hours on line; two, despite New York not allowing the open carry of guns, I didn’t think I’d necessarily feel safe trapped inside a 15,000-seat arena with people who would abandon all other amendments for the 2nd. So I watched as much as I could stomach via livestream while an ad for Ivermectin idled on the side. 

Trump did his usual schtick about the country being unsafe, but specifically zeroed in on New York and the fake migrant crime wave supposedly plaguing our state. He erroneously talked about how migrants are coming from Africa, the Middle East and Asia to put us in danger.

“You got to get rid of these people,” he said. “Give me a shot. You will have a safe New York within three months. Three months. For every New Yorker being terrorized by this wave of migrant crime, November 5th will be your liberation day. It’s going to be liberation because you are living like hell.”

It was ironic to hear Trump making warnings about crime and safety while speaking from the safest county in America. Yes, in a US World and News Report analysis published last month, Nassau County was ranked the number one safest county in the whole country. Suffolk, the only other county on Long Island, came in at #22. And as a defensive Brooklynite it’s my duty to mention that Kings County is #25. 

There’s something particularly sinister about making people who are objectively safe feel unsafe.

As I exited the parking lot shortly before the doors to the rally opened, I spotted a young white couple wearing matching t-shirts that featured an American flag and a photo of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas with his name emblazoned underneath. I stopped them and asked to take a photo, and I noticed she was visibly pregnant.

Outside the parking lot gate a small counter-protest organized by the Service Employees International Union displayed a banner that said, “Haitian Americans: WE DON’T EAT PETS. WE VOTE.”

It was irrevocably sad. And perfectly summed up the times in which we live.