In the heart of New York’s Greenwich Village, that storied progressive and LGBTQ haven, I find myself deep in Trump turf — Barron’s, that is. A stone’s throw from NYU’s campus, where the six-foot-seven freshman allegedly reigns as a “ladies’ man,” Wicked Willy’s, a nautical-themed college bar, has been repurposed for the day as a MAGA oasis. The place, decked out in warm string lights and enough fishnet to make a Bikini Bottom resident fearful, is packed for an inauguration party to celebrate the other Trump (Donald) as he’s sworn into office for a second time. The venue’s Eventbrite page had promised a “festive vibe” for the occasion, which turned out to include stickers with Trump’s face on them presented upon arrival along with massive banners outside, these ones featuring Trump dancing and pointing, beckoning passersby to “break out the beer.” One server floating around encourages us to clap during Trump’s speech.
When I arrived, I had assumed I’d be getting a glimpse of a growing young and conservative faction — the Gen-Z men who had swayed the election in favor of Trump, even here in New York. At the very least, I hoped I’d spot some of Barron’s friend group out in the wild. Instead, what I found was a motley crew of Trump fanatics across all ages relishing in their random, red refuge in an overwhelmingly blue city. Here, among their own tristate MAGA faction, people don’t think they’re racists, transphobes, homophobes, or any other of the -phobes. Instead, as Rodd, a man in a black MAGA hat, put it emphatically, they’re “patriots.”
Inside, nearly all the seats are occupied. The bar is massive, especially by New York standards, and has about ten televisions and two big-screen projections of the inauguration throughout. Both ABC and Fox News are playing in an attempt at displaying diversity of thought. The patrons, very few of whom are wearing Trump or MAGA apparel, are mostly male and overwhelmingly, visibly older than college students. I show up just as Trump begins his first official speech as the 47th president of the United States, and the establishment is so utterly quiet, hanging onto his every word, you could hear a pin drop. The only people speaking are the servers bustling around, taking orders for wings and refilling pints of foamy beer.
There is, though, much hooting and hollering in response to the now-president’s remarks: At the mention of “free speech,” Rodd claps emphatically. “Tell it like it is!” he yells. At the promise of the U.S. only recognizing two genders, the server who’d asked us to applaud becomes excited. “They should have their own bathrooms!” he says to no one specifically, presumably about people who don’t fit into the gender binary. When Trump floats the idea of changing the name of the Gulf of Mexico to the “Gulf of America,” most of the bar begins cheering. And when the president assures us we’ll see “the stars and stripes on planet Mars,” a woman in a cream sweater, apparently very excited about supporting the sciences, pumps her fist in the air and screams, “YES!”
Not everyone here is thrilled, though. The event’s website promised that “after a few drinks, everything will feel okay!,” but two women seated behind me are heckling the television from between their multiple glasses of fruity frozen cocktails. Faye, a resident of the United Kingdom who’s in the States visiting, and Helen, a dual citizen of the U.S. and U.K., have attended this inauguration party by accident.
“We came to this bar thinking it would be a feeling, and it’s the other feeling,” Helen, a 49-year-old with a blonde bob, told me. She assumed this Greenwich Village bar would be full of other disgruntled progressives to commiserate and get drunk with. “I don’t understand how people my age and younger can clap when he’s saying, ‘We’re going to make the country great again,’” she says as tears begin streaming down her face. “The country is already great, and it matters around the world. The USA is so important, and I genuinely don’t know if [Trump] understands that.”
“This has such an impact on the entire world,” Faye, the mother of a transgender child, says. “The people in my country who are far right and very much nationalists are emboldened by the fact that you have this dude in power.” Later, when the waitress asks how the two are “doing over here,” they tell her, “We’re just really sad.”
“Suck it up, snowflakes!” That’s what Rodd tells me his message for upset liberals is. When we start talking, he asks to see my ID and has a camouflage “TRUMP” flag draped over his seat at the bar. Three tall-boy vodka seltzers sit on the counter in front of him. “You’ve had it your way for the past four years, and now it’s our time. You can either join us in making this country great again, or you can self-deport.”
At the speech’s conclusion, Helen and Faye hurl F-bombs, but everyone else breaks out into giddy applause. One person tries to start a “USA” chant but chickens out after just one round. It’s a personification of the red shift across New York. In the city alone, Trump received nearly 100,000 more votes in 2024 than he did in 2020. The people here, gathered over Belgian waffles, burgers, and breakfast burritos, are all part of the same club, one trying to push the region into more conservative waters, and are wary of the possible outsiders walking into the bar, including myself. When I strike up a chat with a financial adviser in a Trump wig and MAGA visor, a girl in his party leans over, looks into my eyes, and asks me if I’m going to “write nice things.”
“We’re looking forward to hopefully a repeat of the first term, which was filled with a great economy, great border, great foreign relations, and no new wars and so many other things,” the man in finance, who asked to remain anonymous on account of his job, says. A novelty sign hanging above his table reads, “I’m on a rum diet, so I gave up thinking.” He and his group, all part of the New York Young Republican Club, had set out this past year on a mission to get Trump reelected: knocking on doors, phone banking, hosting events, and even meeting the big man himself. The 27-year-old and his friends had hoped to make it to Washington, D.C., for the inauguration but figured watching it with “other fellow people that support the president” in the city was a good second option. His girlfriend, whose seat I’d accidentally taken, huffs impatiently behind me as we talk. “I’m almost done,” he assures her, before he asks me if I’m a fellow Republican. “Even though it’s a blue state, we used to be called the silent majority, but now it’s becoming more of the loud majority. A lot more people are becoming more proud of what they support,” he tells me.
Across the bar, a blonde woman wearing a “TRUMP 45-47” American-flag beanie rests her head on her husband’s shoulder. On his head, a matching hat. The couple, Nick Yuhas and Heather Haley, had flown out here from California after their plans to attend the inauguration had fallen through. The tickets to Trump’s swearing-in ceremony had been a joint Christmas and birthday gift from Heather to Nick, but when the event was moved indoors and subsequently closed to the public, the duo decided to stay on the East Coast and visit New York City for the first time.
“We were a little worried walking out of our hotel with our Trump hats, but it’s been amazing,” Heather says. “We love New York! Everybody has been amazing, all the different cultures,” Nick adds. Seeing him visibly excited about the “melting pot” energy of the city, I ask him how he feels about Trump’s proposed policies, like promising to end birthright citizenship and implementing mass deportations. He explains that his grandparents on both sides were immigrants who “came over the right way.”
Heather, whose nails are painted ruby red and hair is curled in a wide-barreled fashion, is hopeful that Trump will “fight for women’s rights” — rights that she feels are “being trampled on right now by men, by transgenders.” “I have a daughter who’s in sports. I don’t want her competing against other transgenders or men. I would like her to compete against women,” she says, echoing the anti-trans sentiment and fear-mongering, particularly toward young trans people, the Republican Establishment has been ramping up during the Biden administration. Last year, out of the 500,000 NCAA athletes competing, only 40 were transgender, or about .008 percent. “I’m fully supportive if you want to be a transgender, do your thing. I have nothing against you, but at the same time, you got to understand there’s a difference.”
Nick, on the other hand, is mostly focused on finances. He feels as though life was cheaper during Trump’s first term (inflation cumulatively increased 20 percent during Biden’s presidency, although economists assert Trump inherited a booming economy from Obama) and hopes to work less these next four years in order to provide for his family. “I think that people have a bad idea of people who support Trump. We’re not wishing harm against people,” he says. “I’m a fireman. I support Donald Trump, but if the bell goes off, and you’re trapped in the house, I don’t care if you’re Black, white, transgender, gay, whatever, I’m gonna risk my life.” Nick begins to tear up, apologizing for becoming emotional.
After I’ve decided I’d seen enough and get up to leave, a woman in an American-flag sweater saunters up to our corner. She puts her fists in the air and stops at our table. “Fuck yeah!” she screams, unprompted. “Isn’t this awesome!?”