I have aspired for a political career since elementary school, where I would pour over books about female trailblazers. As a fifth grader, I dressed up as Ruth Bader Ginsburg for Halloween and posed for a photo with a boy my age dressed in a Trump costume.
I am a high school senior now, and the playful divide that picture symbolized has become all too real.
As Jan. 20 approaches—the one-year anniversary of Donald Trump’s inauguration—I find myself taking stock of what has shifted in that first year of his return to power. The political climate that once felt abstract or distant now shapes my classrooms, my friendships and my sense of what adulthood will demand of me.
From TikTok to the White House, a version of toxic “tough guy” masculinity has permeated our politics—one that glorifies abuse, aggression and misogyny. As these values take hold, my generation is splitting along party lines: More young men view these figures as the epitome of “real men,” while young women grapple with a future in which our voices are dismissed and ridiculed.
Recent voter turnout has made this ideological divide increasingly clear. Young men are becoming more conservative, with 56 percent of them supporting Trump in 2024, up from 41 percent in 2020. In 2024, 59 percent of young women aged 18-29 voted for Harris, marking a 31-point gender gap in youth voting.
Behind the widening of the partisan gender divide lies a corrosive rebranding of modern-day manhood. Central to this shift was Charlie Kirk, who engaged in debate with a characteristic condescension that boys my age might easily mistake for wisdom. Insecure and impressionable, many of them were drawn to Kirk and his belief that “young men don’t like taking orders from women.” Kirk co-founded Turning Point USA at just 18 years old, with the mission of rallying young men around “traditional” conservative values that often relegate women to domestic spheres. Originally home to 1,200 registered high school chapters, Turning Point received over 50,000 new chapter requests in the days after his murder.
The culture shaping boys online isn’t new, however. It echoes patterns long established by men in positions of political power. Former New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, accused of sexually assaulting 13 women and suing for their gynecological records, returned to politics this year, running (unsuccessfully) for New York City mayor. On the day of the primary election, I encountered Anthony Weiner, the former representative accused of sending sexually explicit images to a teenage girl, putting up campaign posters just feet away in a bid to fill a City Council seat. For the ease they felt in returning to public life, female politicians like Kamala Harris and Hillary Clinton still face criticism for how they laugh, dress and display emotions. In a political system that claims to reward merit, women are still judged by standards that have nothing to do with their ability to lead. This has led young men and women to expect entirely different treatment from the same political institutions.
No figure embodies male misconduct more clearly than Donald Trump, whose long history of sexual and verbal abuse has normalized misogyny at the highest levels of government. His rhetoric towards women frequently includes words like nasty, dumb, ugly, pathetic, dirty, disgusting and crazy. The president has the unique ability to set the standard for American manhood; I worry that his behavior will convince young men that they, too, can assault and demean women and still hold prominent political careers.
The messages young boys are absorbing from these male leaders filter down into classrooms and everyday conversations. In debate tournaments, I often notice a stark difference in the attitudes of the boys and girls I converse with. Boys tend to speak as though they are teaching me about the topic, talking extra loudly and getting defensive when I point out a flaw in their argument. I am witnessing them become more impressed by the bravado of men like Donald Trump and Charlie Kirk than concerned about their actions.
Last November, in the days after the election, I felt firsthand the rage and sadness of women hugging each other in elevators and exchanging glances on the train. But as the months passed and Trump was sworn back into office, that grief hardened into something more enduring: the realization that this wasn’t just an outcome, but a governing reality. To many of my male classmates, it remained just another Wednesday.
This disconnect has forced me to grapple with the political reality of the country I’m inheriting. As a 17-year-old, marking one full year since Donald Trump’s inauguration, I have now spent half my life under his administration. I am growing into adulthood in a world where I may have to travel across state lines for an abortion; where I’ll be penalized more for my gender than men are penalized for their misconduct; where the very leaders meant to protect my rights are actively stripping them away.
So now, more than ever, there is a pressing need for more women in the political sphere working to dismantle the misogyny that permeates every level of our government. We must recognize the divisive legacy of the masculine figures we have placed at the center of mainstream media and politics, and take steps to confront their normalization of the mistreatment of women.
For the girls of my generation, seeing people who look like us in decision-making rooms is vital to how we envision our place in the world. I am scared that girls are being perniciously redirected from the careers of their choosing and from positions of power within them, and that that loss is too great to quantify.
Great Job Hazel Kaminsky & the Team @ Ms. Magazine Source link for sharing this story.
