By Lisa Lerer and Michael Gold
For over ten years, former President Donald Trump has propelled his political ascension with ominous appeals to white Christian constituents, cautioning against immigrants encroaching on their jobs and insidious attempts to erode what he terms the nation’s genuine heritage.
Now, in a tight contest against the first Black woman to secure her party’s nomination, Trump is widening his focus.
He has continuously alleged that migrants are seizing “Black jobs” and “Hispanic jobs,” a claim refuted by labor data. In Las Vegas, he informed Latino voters that undocumented immigrants were “completely ruining our Hispanic community.” He assured women in Pennsylvania he would be their “protector,” claiming they would no longer feel “abandoned, lonely or scared”—a promise based on the exaggerated notion that criminals who are also immigrants lurk everywhere.
Despite frequent complaints about how progressive politicians fracture the country through “identity politics,” Trump seems to be the one in this race making more overt identity-based appeals for voter support.
“He’s much more explicit than most previous candidates when it comes to appealing to Black and Latino voters, creating divisions among their respective identity groups,” stated Michael Tesler, a political science professor at the University of California, Irvine, who co-authored a book on how Trump utilizes white identity politics. “There’s a singular grievance of ‘I’m not receiving my fair share.’”
Trump’s overt and alarming calls for support have faced backlash, often ridiculed for their awkward use of race, gender, and religion. Yet, in this crucial and chaotic phase of the election, they also signify a bold attempt to broaden the reach of economic, racial, and cultural grievances that secured him a place in the White House eight years ago.
Trump is trying to appeal to Black and Latino voters by setting them against undocumented immigrants, whom he has consistently blamed for a range of economic, public safety, national security, and societal issues. He attributes voters’ economic discontent to an influx of undocumented immigrants—whom he claims the Biden administration permitted to enter.
Efforts to connect with subsets of the U.S. electorate have long been a feature in presidential campaigns, often intertwined with evolving racial and gender dynamics. In 1960, John F. Kennedy campaigned in Harlem, promising to enhance civil rights. Nearly fifty years later, George W. Bush infused some Texan-flavored Spanish into his speeches from Iowa to California.
However, Trump’s venture into targeted campaigning exceeds the typical political visits to Black churches and taco stands.
In 2016, Trump focused on hardworking “forgotten” Americans, historically associated with white working-class voters. Four years later, he embraced themes of white nationalism, defending Confederate statues and warning of violent Black Lives Matter protestors invading white neighborhoods.
Yet, in a race expected to be decided by minute margins, his campaign advisors believe even a slight reduction in Harris’ advantage among groups that typically lean Democratic could be crucial.
“This is a battle of inches,” remarked James Blair, the Trump campaign’s political director. “It’s about small gains with various populations in different states.”
The outcome is a narrative that can sometimes seem disjointed.
When addressing Black voters, Trump emphasizes his signature criminal justice reform, the First Step Act. At different engagements, he advocates for a revival of stop-and-frisk practices, which research indicates disproportionately affect Black and Latino men. During an event at a Black church in Detroit aimed at demonstrating his outreach, a significant portion of the audience was white.
He has also brought Black and Hispanic artists onstage at rallies, attempting to secure new endorsements, though this effort can be awkward. Last month in Las Vegas, Trump, evidently reading from a script, acknowledged Nicky Jam, a male reggaeton artist present. “Do you know Nicky?” he asked the audience. “She’s hot. Where is Nicky?” When Nicky Jam appeared on stage, Trump seemed a bit confused.
In Johnstown, Pennsylvania, Puerto Rican rapper Anuel AA endorsed Trump in front of a largely white crowd, a discrepancy that Trump remarked upon. “I don’t know if these people know who the hell you are, but it’s beneficial for the Puerto Rican vote,” he commented. “Every Puerto Rican is going to vote for Trump right now. We’ll take it.”
In his attempts to gain Jewish voters from Democrats, he has contended that Israel would cease to exist without his election. Moreover, while courting Jewish support—numbering around 700,000 voters across key battleground states—he has said they “would have a lot to do” with a loss, preemptively blaming them.
Observers who’ve monitored Trump for many years argue that these overtures stem from a strategy to set different groups against each other.
“Donald consistently appeals to your darker instincts,” asserted Alan Marcus, a consultant who worked with the Trump Organization in the 1990s and opposes the former president. “He thrives on hate. If he can manipulate you into hating something, he benefits.”
Trump’s campaign aides have stated they are focusing on Black and Latino voters across battleground states, hosting community initiatives ranging from offering complimentary haircuts at a campaign headquarters in Pennsylvania to organizing small business discussions in Georgia and Nevada.
Vianca Rodriguez, the director of Hispanic communications for the Trump campaign, characterized their endeavor as sharing “President Trump’s vision for enhancing the quality of life for Hispanic Americans, many of whom are struggling under” the Biden-Harris regime.
The Harris campaign counters that it has undertaken more extensive and sustained outreach in those communities through a field operation that started nearly a year ago. On Wednesday, it launched “Hombres con Harris,” an initiative focused on Latino men in battleground regions.
They dismiss Trump’s efforts as divisive, if not outright hateful.
“I believe people are worn out, and they’re tired of the lies, the selfishness, and the attempts to divide us as Americans, and they’re eager to turn the page and forge a new path forward,” Harris expressed in an interview with “The View” on Tuesday.
At other times, they have sought to flip Trump’s own statements into effective criticisms against him.
“Who’s going to inform him that the position he’s currently pursuing might just be one of those ‘Black jobs’?” Michelle Obama, the former first lady, declared to rapturous applause at the Democratic National Convention in August.
There are early signs that Trump may be achieving some success. Polls indicate he has broadened his backing among Latino and Black voters compared to 2020, a shift that threatens to disrupt the multiracial coalition that has long supported Democratic victories.
Pinpointing the exact extent of his support is challenging. Trump is explicitly aiming at what campaign strategists refer to as “low propensity” voters, particularly a demographic of Black and Latino men who are less likely to consistently participate in elections.
However, it is the slight shifts among these hard-to-track voters, strategists argue, that could determine the outcome of the race.
“The most crucial voters are often the ones we understand the least,” commented Carlos Odio, a founder of Equis, a research organization that leans Democratic and specializes in Latino voters. “The lingering question we face now is: Can Trump attract some of these irregular Trumpian Latino votes as he has with white working-class men?”
