Adam, an anti-MAGA creator who goes by “Uncle Adam” on TikTok, voted for Trump in 2016. After being raised by a democratic family (his dad was in a union), he switched to the Republican party during the George Bush era. “It was right after the Clinton and Lewinsky scandal, which made me reevaluate the people I was looking up to on the Democratic side,” he says. “Plus, they were calling Bush a compassionate conservative.” By 2016, Adam had settled into the fact that he was a pro-life Republican, so he voted red again – even though he didn’t like Trump. The regret started to kick in the following year, after stories from women in the #MeToo movement. “My daughter was 16 at the time, and I had voted for a world where that stuff was OK,” he says. 

It took Adam years before he admitted his voting regret, even though he’d fight with fellow Trump voters online about immigration and George Floyd. “I realised the racism wasn’t a turnoff for them, it was the draw,” he says. In 2020, he filled out his ballot for Trump but never sent it in. “I was still in the Republican mindset, but I just hadn’t realised yet how much I had shifted,” he says. When Trump supporters stormed the Capitol on January 6, 2021, Adam says he was relieved he didn’t vote. “On that day, I was glad that Biden won and fully regretted voting for him in 2016,” he says. Last year, he posted about his regrets on TikTok in an attempt to sway Trump voters who were feeling on the fence. Some people called him brave and honest – but others told him to “FAFO” (fuck around and find out). So, for the sake of progress, what do we do with those coming forward to confess their MAGA regrets?

Adam is one of the few ex-Trump supporters online who are willing to admit their previous political affiliations. But for every video of someone expressing tearful regrets over immigration raids or anonymous comments on Reddit or under TikTok videos, there are many more from Trump supporters proudly standing by their vote. That doesn’t stop people on the left waiting, hoping and wishing, prompting others to come forward: “I genuinely need to know, is there anyone out there that voted for that man and is now regretting it? Curious, not judging.” Only there is plenty of judgment and (justifiable) frustration. “A lot of people were angry at me in my regret video, but there are people that just need to be mad right now,” says Adam. “If I can be a lightning rod for some of that, I’m OK with it.” His family, however, welcomed him back to the left, and it’s brought their relationship closer in recent years. 

We can’t talk about the 2024 election without discussing social media – especially considering that X (or Twitter) is now owned by Elon Musk, and Mark Zuckerberg cosying up to Trump. According to Bernd Reiter, a professor of political science at Texas Tech University, it’s important to recognise the degree of manipulation when discussing MAGA voters (ex or otherwise), alongside the fact that a lot of what’s happening is a signal of frustration with failed governance from both sides. “In the past, people didn’t have access to information, and now we’re swallowed up by it,” he says. “It’s not new to manipulate and distract people from what’s really going to matter to them with nationalism, migration or abortion, but it has certainly increased.” 

Despite the online discourse, there are very few places in America where people can hash out political differences in person. “Back to the Greek origin of democracy, there were these yearly festivals where everybody got together to play out scenarios and the consequences of focusing too on war or self-interest,” says Reiter. “There was a theme of learning through suffering, and you could say ‘If you voted for him and you’re suffering now, perhaps we all will learn from it,’ but it’s doubtful these days.” As American voters focus on their own self-interests, Reiter guesses that many of the MAGA regret voters are people who have been directly affected by Trump’s actions. This, of course, is far less transformative on a large scale than shifting the needle with people who may benefit from Trump and his policies. 

Instead of asking what we do with the specific (and sparing) public Trump regret voters, it may be worth posing the question of how we can restore a culture of mutual responsibility in America – which is, obviously, far more difficult to answer. “All of us have to be committed to democracy, justice and fairness,” says Reiter. “Otherwise, this whole thing doesn’t work.” For human rights advocate, educator and model maya finoh, this means acknowledging that the Democratic establishment often “loads the gun” for Republicans to enter office. It also looks like recognising that, when someone is regretful, a door is open, while centering the people who were already the canaries in the coal mine, who saw the writing on the wall. 

As we’re already seeing, the policies of this administration will impact marginalised people across America – and regretful Trump supporters won’t help, even if it feels good in the moment. “The ‘you reap what you sow’ people are the type of moderate liberals who went back to Starbucks and McDonald’s after Harris lost,” says finoh. “They’re really looking for selective liberation; I wouldn’t consider these people as committed to resistance and social justice movements in this country.” As the far right actively recruits young people, the same effort is needed to get Americans invested in issues that don’t directly impact them. After all, the people bearing the brunt of Trump’s policies are not the white middle-class people saying it was a mistake to vote for him. “The people in ICE detentions are not who people usually have in mind when they’re saying ‘you made your bed,’” says finoh.