Politics: Trump Gawkers

Photos + written essay proposed to and published by The New York Times 

- Trump Gawkers 

I searched the folded glass above me, smooth as tar and just as dark. Trump Tower attracted a persistent ring of gawkers—mouths ajar, eyes scaling its opaque tiers, fingers twitching with a constant urge to self-record. It was November 9th, 2016, and I was there on assignment, the cacophony of Election Day still deafening my ears. Donald Trump was president.  

Days coalesced into weeks, and I found myself unable to look away while wading through the pulsating crowds—they, undeterred by an imposing security detail, weather elements, or their own scale. Daily, hoards undertook the trek to stare, gawk, absorb and document. This fascination with Trump Tower seemed like an extension of what had elected the man inside it, and I had to find out more—through pictures and words, from Trump foe and supporter alike.  

Upon first look, people traveled to Trump Tower for sport and amusement, but underneath their upturned eyes and selfie smiles, I discovered a common undercurrent of anxiety—and not just from those who didn't want Trump in the Oval Office. Some within the electorate who’d voted against Hillary Clinton were now unsure which version of Trump they’d elected. And so, people's upward gazes, no matter their political views, sought answers: How could this happen? Or now that it has, what would it mean?  

In the days between Election and Inauguration, voter sentiment spanned elation, fear, denial, misplaced blame, and then, bewildered anger.  

I met a woman dressed as a giant middle finger; a female corporate executive who, while choosing anonymity, opined that Trump was the "real Cinderella story,” and that his Democratic rival Hillary Clinton had "slept her way to the top"; a Muslim woman from Albania who did not believe Trump would enact any anti-immigration policies, to later confess shock from Trump's immediate travel ban against seven Muslim-majority countries—standing near her friend, a Moroccan immigrant who said he’d changed his name from Mohamed to Steve in order to motivate more resume clicks; the Las Vegas business owner who immediately labeled minorities as “responsible” for losses to his business profits; a family of Trump supporters chanting “America First” upon entering the Tower's lobby.  

Post-inauguration, another vein of thought drew strength within the tower’s visitors: fear and uncertainty. Public fascination withdrew, now second to deciphering a brand new world. Many more now tempered, modified, disclaimed their words: in apologetically hesitant tones, via half-serious humor, or in direct request to go off-record. The first I met was a Muslim woman who did not wish to spare not a minute nor a photo, nor any further identifying information, because her consulate had forbidden any conversation on Trump in fear of retaliation. Unsurprisingly, a German visitor drew parallels between the current political climate in America to pre-Fascist Germany in the 1920s and 1930s.  

But most unexpectedly, an avid traveler from the U.K. capped an incredibly temperate interview with a defensive chuckle: "I'm normally pretty neutral, but I just don't want to get banned from the U.S. if I say the wrong thing.” His joke belied a real anxiety: that no one knew who would be targeted next.  

Then there were the bold: a group of University of Florida women arriving on Women’s Day to photograph themselves with roses expressing their “femininity” and "fight against sexualization” in the media and by other men, which they said had now become more permissible under Trump. As if to underscore their point, they were cat-called the entire time they photographed.  

A former journalist and artist, who said she'd emigrated from Communist China in 1992 to seek more artistic freedom, nonetheless said she believed most news reports on Trump in America were “fake," and thus, “justifying" any resulting media censorship. As we were each survivors of Communist regimes in disparate parts of the world, I was especially interested in why, after fleeing government control over journalism, the arts, and nearly all aspects of life in her home country, she supported an iteration of this here. 

“This is different from China—there the government controls everything. But in America, there's too much freedom. That's why we need Trump as president,” she said. "He's blocked media from press conferences because they're doing too much damage to the country. I don't think he deserves the bad stories. I know it's all fake news because Trump's not going to be fake. That doesn't make sense—it would damage him to be that.” 

This cognitive dissonance—the urge to blend one’s own hopeful perceptions with the contradictions of reality—is something I’d seen in many Trump supporters. Most notably, a retired psychotherapist from Palm Beach—who thought the First Amendment did not bestow the public with the right to protest, but instead, protected Trump himself against protesting itself—offered a head-turning theory on why Trump had chosen anti-environmentalist Scott Pruitt to head the Environmental Protection Agency: reverse psychology.  

"I think that Trump's just making a statement that he'll turn this guy around. This guy, Pruitt, is aware of climate change despite being against it. Trump has a strategy: he takes the underdog and turns him around because he likes a challenge. And sometimes people do the opposite of what they want to do, because they like a challenge. There's a method to his madness.” 

This bizarre, horror-filled stream of attention shouldn’t so frivolously be reduced to simple selfie fodder. Differently said: without the voyeurism synonymous to our era, a politically inexperienced celebrity with a fiery social media account might not have been elected. As one Canadian visitor put it, "I like him. He is trendy.”  

From trendy to trending, a hashtag turned president. These are his gawkers.