Navigating High School While Supporting President Trump: A Challenge
As President Trump concluded his inauguration ceremony last week, my mind raced with thoughts about how my peers would respond at school the following day. It wasn’t merely a matter of whether my fellow 11th graders in New York supported him; it was the palpable tension that I anticipated would permeate the atmosphere.
People often shy away from what unsettles them, and Donald Trump is the embodiment of discomfort. Love him or hate him, he serves as a stark reminder of why I refuse to suppress my opinions regarding policies, politics, and my vision of genuine justice—even when those views may not be popular.
High school resembles a microcosm of politics. You’re induced to play by the rules, agree in safe spaces, and steer clear of topics that might set you apart. Observing Trump’s inauguration, I witnessed someone who has wholly dismissed these unspoken rules—and it prompted me to ponder why students, educators, and administrators oftentimes avoid doing the same.
One of the inauguration’s most notable aspects wasn’t just Trump’s speech or the audience’s reaction—it was the conspicuous absence of Democratic leaders like former First Lady Michelle Obama, House Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi, and Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Their choice to boycott the event was not merely an act of defiance; it was a calculated refusal to confront the reality that is Trump’s presidency. For them, showing up likely represented more than merely joining a ceremony— it would have meant acknowledging a leader they believed ascended through divisive language and a lack of respect for established norms.
Their absence conveyed significant meaning regarding a broader discomfort. It wasn’t solely Trump they disavowed—it was what his presidency represents: a pivotal moment in U.S. politics where principles like truth, inclusion, and decency appeared, in their eyes, to be at risk. This reflects a pattern I’ve often witnessed: dodging confrontation instead of addressing uncomfortable realities.
At school, I’ve observed similar reticence concerning contentious subjects. Rather than tackle complex issues, such as immigration and abortion rights, most peers steer clear of them. It isn’t indifference; voicing opinions feels perilous. With firm beliefs of my own, I’ve frequently held back from expressing them. I’ve rewritten posts, moderated arguments, and at times, chosen silence.
When I do speak out—whether regarding my pro-Israel stance or my concerns over cancel culture—the reactions can be fraught, even hostile. I’ve encountered numerous examples of peers or teachers dismissing my nonconformist viewpoints in class.
However, Trump’s inauguration served as a powerful reminder that silence is not synonymous with strength. Trump spoke to the nation—his former opponents seated behind him. He vocalized his thoughts, criticizing the Biden administration’s shortcomings while emphasizing the political challenges he faced.
Watching Trump claim the presidency—despite protests, boycotts, and criticism—highlighted the power of nonconformity. Throughout his first term, Trump deported hundreds of thousands of undocumented immigrants; while this policy drew severe criticism, he did it with unapologetic pride and continues to advance these initiatives in his current term. That kind of decisiveness is increasingly rare, particularly in my generation, where even a controversial tweet could threaten one’s future.
I’m not suggesting that I agree with every action Trump has taken—his management of the 2020 election aftermath was far from presidential. Nevertheless, the inauguration caused me to reflect on how frequently youth are advised to “play it safe.” In school, we are urged to temper our opinions and steer clear of heated debates, yet genuine progress never arises from a place of caution.
The most significant changemakers in history—like civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. and suffragette Alice Paul—didn’t concern themselves with popularity. They focused on effecting change. Trump’s unwillingness to conform to societal expectations is a modern, albeit polarizing, example of that ethos.
This issue transcends politics; it’s about how we choose to navigate our lives.
Undoubtedly, social media amplifies this trepidation, where every utterance feels permanent, and any misstep could gain viral traction. Even college applications promote conformity. The advice to “cultivate a personal brand” often interpretatively means concealing anything that may be seen as controversial, even if it reflects our true beliefs. I now scrutinize every article I prepare for publication multiple times—not for grammatical accuracy or tone, but to guarantee that my work doesn’t come across as too polarizing for the college admissions committees that will ultimately shape my future.
Viewing President Trump’s inauguration made me realize that being politically incorrect—or simply forthright—can lead to unpopularity, but it also conveys a willingness to advocate for one’s beliefs. Whether you celebrate it or oppose it, Trump’s presidency illustrates the power inherent in defying societal expectations.
Gregory Lyakhov is a high school junior from Long Island who has contributed to The Jerusalem Post, The Times of Israel, and The Algemeiner.