New Report Shows Democrat Party In Shambles In Trump Era
We all know by now that President Donald Trump won the 2024 election by some pretty big numbers, but a new study from the Pew Research Center gives us an even better look at who those numbers represent.
According to the analysis, voters who backed Trump in 2024 are “far more racially and ethnically diverse” than they were in either 2020 or 2016.
With Hispanic voters. Trump and Kamala Harris were basically tied. Back in 2020, Biden carried the Hispanic vote 61 to 36. In 2024, Harris only beat Trump by three points — 51 to 48.
As for the black vote, Trump pulled in 15 percent compared to just 8 percent in 2020, and he also made some serious progress with Asian voters. In 2020, Biden dominated with the Asian vote 70 to 30. This time around, Harris managed just 57 percent while Trump jumped to 40 percent, Sarah Anderson of PJ Media
reported.
Trump also did very well with immigrants who are now naturalized citizens. According to Pew, they make up about 9 percent of the voting population. In 2020, they went for Biden 59 to 38.
But in 2024, that lead shrank fast. Harris got 51 percent, and Trump was right behind at 47.
Trump doubled his margin with non-college-educated voters compared to 2016. He beat Harris with rural voters by a whopping 40 points. Among voters who attend religious services regularly, Trump won 64 to 34.
In 2020, men were basically split. In 2024, Trump dominated — 55 to 43. He especially gained with younger men under 50.
The report shows that Democrats are losing their grip on the very groups they claim to represent. And this report also punches a hole in something a lot of people say, that higher turnout means a win for Democrats,” Anderson reported.
The theory has been that when more people vote, Democrats benefit because low turnout voters are supposed to be people who lean left and just do not always show up. But in 2024, that narrative collapsed. Pew said, “…if all Americans eligible to vote in 2024 had cast ballots, the overall margin in the popular vote likely would not have been much different.”
This is good news for Republicans, but that does not mean the party can relax.
“First of all, Trump isn’t your average politician. His appeal goes beyond party lines because he’s unlike anyone we’ve had run for office in most of our lifetimes. He’s afraid of no one and largely does what he says he’s going to do. He’s a unicorn. We’ll likely never see anything like it again, and we can only move forward on his momentum. We must,” Anderson said.
“Second, I’ve been alive long enough to see the Republicans in office, especially in Congress, screw up any sort momentum that’s handed to them on a silver platter like this. We’re always the team on defense, and Trump has given this party the gift of finally getting our hands back on the ball. On top of that, we’re playing a team that can’t even find a third-string quarterback, and half of its receivers are too busy trying on the cheerleader’s skirts to know there’s even a game going on,” the writer said.
“Even so, I don’t trust Republicans in Congress not to throw an interception, and I don’t think I’m alone in that. The Grand Old Party must pull its Grand Old Head out of its a**, take advantage of this gift, and prove to these people who voted for them for the first time in their lives that it’s truly something better than anything Democrats have to offer. We must prove to these new voters that we see them as individuals who can do great things for themselves, not as groups over whom we just want power and control,” she added.
"""My husband brought his mistress to our daughter’s wedding—and then asked me to give her my seat beside him.
"""My husband brought his mistress to our daughter’s wedding—and then asked me to give her my seat beside him. For a few seconds, I honestly thought I was looking at the wrong table, because my name card had vanished and Melissa’s was sitting exactly where mine had been on every seating chart. She wore a pale blue silk dress, lifted her champagne as if she belonged there, and avoided my eyes when I stopped beside the chair. David stood up, pointed to an empty seat at the next table, and quietly said, “For tonight, why don’t you sit over there?”
I had spent fourteen months helping our daughter, Emily, plan that wedding, from dress fittings and florist meetings to late-night calls over napkins and seating charts. That morning, while I fastened the pearl buttons on her gown, she made me promise I would enjoy the day and not let anything between her father and me touch it. I meant that promise, because whatever was left of my marriage, I would not make my daughter’s wedding the battlefield where it died. But David had apparently made a different plan, and he expected me to cooperate with it in silence.
When I asked what Melissa was doing there, David’s face showed guilt for only a second before he hid it behind irritation. He acted as though I were creating the problem simply by noticing that his mistress was seated at the family table in the place reserved for the bride’s mother. Then Melissa looked at me and said, “Honey, today really isn’t the day to make Emily uncomfortable.” I almost laughed, because the woman who had been sleeping with my husband for nearly a year was now warning me not to embarrass my own daughter.
I could feel people settling into nearby seats, laughing and talking, unaware that my marriage was being quietly rearranged in front of them. David kept his voice low and told me we should not “do this here,” as if the humiliation belonged to me because I refused to disappear politely. I looked at the empty chair he had chosen for me between a cousin and someone from the groom’s side, and I realized something colder than anger. This was not spontaneous; he had thought about where Melissa would sit, and he had assumed I would move.
For twenty-eight years, I had been the woman who adjusted, explained, forgave, and made excuses when David forgot anniversaries, missed dinners, or put work ahead of family. When he became distant, I learned to expect less instead of asking for more, and somewhere along the way he mistook that patience for permission. Even now, part of me considered taking the other chair, smiling for photographs, swallowing the humiliation, and telling myself it was all for Emily. I actually reached for the chair because protecting my daughter still mattered more to me than winning a public fight.
Then I heard one word behind me: “Mom?” Emily was walking toward us in her wedding dress, still glowing from the ceremony, and at first she looked confused rather than angry. Her eyes moved from me, to the empty chair, to Melissa, then back to the family table where she had personally placed me months ago. David quickly stepped in and announced that he had “rearranged a few things,” as if changing the bride’s seating chart without permission were no more serious than moving a centerpiece.
Emily asked why I was not sitting in my seat, and David casually pointed to the neighboring table and said I would be sitting “right there.” Her smile disappeared, and her eyes dropped to the place card in front of Melissa. I watched my daughter’s expression go completely still as she picked up that card and turned it over in her hand. In that instant, I understood the worst part: Emily had not approved this, and David had brought his mistress into our daughter’s wedding believing he could force everyone to accept what he wanted once it was already done.
What Emily did not know was that six months earlier, I had discovered David’s affair through a message that appeared on his phone while he was in the shower. Melissa had written, “I hate pretending I don’t miss you when she’s around,” followed by another message asking whether Friday was still theirs. When I confronted him, David spent eleven minutes calling me paranoid, insecure, dramatic, suspicious, and unfair before I repeated Melissa’s words exactly. The silence that followed ended our marriage long before either of us ever said the word divorce.
We had kept the details quiet because Emily was planning her wedding, and I refused to turn her happiest season into a crisis about us. David told me he was “confused,” that what he had with Melissa was “more complicated than an affair,” and that he needed time before making decisions. I agreed only that Emily’s wedding came first, so we slept in separate rooms, spoke carefully, and tried to appear functional while our marriage quietly collapsed. I believed David understood that one day required restraint, but he had apparently used that silence to prepare something else.
Three weeks before the wedding, he had casually asked whether Emily had finalized the family table and whether every seat had been assigned. At the time, I thought it was harmless conversation, but standing there with Melissa’s card in my daughter’s hand, I finally understood why he had asked. He had been checking whether there would be room, and when there was not, he simply removed me. Emily looked up at her father and asked, very quietly, “Where is Mom’s place card?”—and for the first time that night, David had no easy answer.
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