Student Story: They’re Not All Racist: A Trip of Journalism and Discovery

“Make America great again!”

This was the reoccurring thought I had running through my head, as I was driving in my car to Western Wisconsin. Was I really about to go door to door looking for people who voted for Trump? In towns where the population was 99.9 percent white; I wasn’t sure what to expect. How would they treat me once they seen I was black with an afro? I thought this would be the first time I would experience extreme racism, but to my surprise I had been wrong.

I had been preparing myself for the worst and I have no one to blame but myself, oh, and the media. I had never been around rural people before this trip, so the things I heard through media were the only assumptions I had. The media painted a picture in my head that eventually changed, once I got to know these people. I met farmers, hunters, and even Amish people and I never would’ve thought they’d feel comfortable talking to a young black, curly-head student-journalist.

When big cities such as New York City wrote stories on why these types of people voted for Trump they got the story wrong. People voted for Trump for economic reasons, for change and because they flat out hate Hillary.

Some people even explicitly said, “I’m not racist,” but a part of me didn’t believe them. Although, they never said they didn’t like a certain race, they made subtle racist comments. In each state we visited: Wisconsin, Iowa and Minnesota, they each said something negative about Muslims. It seemed like every race had a pass, except Muslims. From the way they dressed to the language they spoke, Trump voters couldn’t seem to tolerate their presence. At one point, I was told by an 86-year-old man, Muslims needed to conform to American society.

The conversations didn’t stop there. These people were so willing to tell me their life stories, even those who didn’t want to at first. It happened to be the first day of hunting season when we started our road trip.

Orange was the dress code and sometimes I felt like I was sticking out with my white Tommy Hilfiger coat. I was only three hours away from Milwaukee, but I was making new life experiences. The trip lasted two days, but a week’s worth of stuff happened.

The curvy roads and endless amounts of land were made for me to go explore. I was eager to talk to people, so I did. No matter how different I looked from them, I just had to interview them. I took the lead in my group and did most of the interviews. I’m glad everyone had their own talents they brought along with them because mine was speaking.

I spoke to a garage full of hunters, when everyone else was too scared to. I walked up to a lady’s house, when no one else wanted to. I even ran after an Amish buggy; I had to take risk if I wanted to hear people’s stories.

If I could do this trip all over again I would. I became a travel journalist and most importantly, I became more open-minded. I now know, in the world of Journalism to never go in with your own thoughts, let the stories people tell you take over your mind first. In two days, I learned how to be a better me, while also becoming an even better journalist.