She Doesn’t Believe All Women
On the afternoon of July 3, the day before President Donald Trump’s rained-on Independence Day celebration (or “show of a lifetime,” depending on whose Twitter feed you look at), a small but committed group left a wharf in Washington, D.C., for a cruise on the Potomac.
In 2016, we learned that the Trump coalition was broader than many had assumed: the hold-your-nose-vote-your-pocketbook one-percenters; the suburban soccer moms who, when it came down to it, were a little skittish about immigration. But the 200-some-odd passengers aboard the Spirit of Washington were emphatically not those people—this was a Trump-campaign-rally crowd in full flower. Women carried evening clutches with MAGA spelled in rhinestones; one guest was literally wrapped in the flag, the stars portion knotted at her neck, the rest wafting in the waterfront breeze like Superman’s cape. There were “Bikers for Trump,” “Cowboys for Trump,” a woman peddling 24-karat-gold-plated Trump-hologram novelty bills for $30 (proceeds, she explained, would go to defeating Representative Ilhan Omar).
And yet the woman of the hour, the person with whom just about everyone wanted to take a selfie, was a 76-year-old grandmother named Juanita with a heart-shaped face and a cascade of blond curls wrangled into a ponytail; on her navy sheath, she wore a 2020 pin no bigger than American Airlines wings. Before she even reached the check-in desk at the pier, she was approached for a picture by a statuesque woman in her early 30s wearing a sundress and a MAGA hat. “I know you from Fox News,” the
