Nate Hegyi, rural reporter for the , is embarking on a crisscrossing the continental divide in August and September, interviewing and listening to Americans ahead of the 2020 election. You can follow along on , an and this map.
September 3: Rexburg to Tetonia, 47 miles
An important note here: These are my first-glance takeaways. Think of this as a reporter's notebook. A mosaic of voices over the next few weeks, cycling 900 miles across four states and dozens of small towns.
It鈥檚 estimated that 95% of Rexburg鈥檚 population are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This doesn鈥檛 surprise me, however, because this bustling little college town along the banks of Henry鈥檚 Fork of the Snake River looks like it was airlifted from Utah 鈥� clean streets, bright new buildings and the tall, white spire of a mormon temple overlooking town.
There are young couples everywhere, holding hands and sitting on blankets in a city park. It鈥檚 like someone took the movie Pleasantville and brought it to life. The mormon energy here is driven by the college, a satellite campus for the church-operated Brigham Young University.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a church school,鈥� says Chelsea, a BYU-Idaho student who is hanging on some monkey bars in the park. 鈥淚 like the spirit of it. They have standards that you have to live up to in order to stay here, which makes it a healthier environment and that just makes you feel safe.鈥�
Those standards include no alcohol, coffee, tea, sexual activity or vulgar language. Men are to be clean-shaven and women can鈥檛 wear dresses that go above the knees. It鈥檚 the opposite of the high school Chelsea went to in Nampa, Idaho.
鈥淚 was offered weed a lot,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 like that I don鈥檛 have to deal with that here.鈥�
Every autumn, Rexburg swells with tens of thousands of young Latter-day Saints like Chelsea. They come from all over the United States and all over the world, making Rexburg the most diverse town I鈥檝e visited since beginning this journey.
Cruising on my bicycle down a main street, I run into Mashike Lumbama and Wandile Sibisi. They鈥檙e wearing gym clothes and chatting. Both are members of the Church. They moved to Rexburg a couple of years ago from Zambia and South Africa respectively to attend classes.
I ask them how they like it here and they exchange glances.
鈥淚 have so many opinions about it,鈥� Lumbama says laughing. 鈥淚 feel like people aren鈥檛 genuinely polite. They act polite but they鈥檙e not.鈥�
Lumbama says she gets a lot of stupid questions because she is a foreigner, such as whether she鈥檚 eaten lasagna before or how she learned to speak English.
鈥淚鈥檓 like, 鈥楳an, I鈥檝e spoken it my entire life!鈥欌€� she says.
Both of them tell me there鈥檚 also an undercurrent of racism here. Some white students will say Lumbama and Sibisi, who are Black, look intimidating. Others will try and touch their hair. Then, of course, there are the shootings of George Floyd, Elijah McClain and countless other Black men and women whose deaths have prompted protests and counter protests across the country.
鈥淚 feel like everything in America is political,鈥� says Lumbama. 鈥淚 think that clouds someone鈥檚 common sense. Back at home, I feel like humanity comes first. Common sense comes first.鈥�
Both Lumbama and Sibisi have an outsider鈥檚 perspective of America 鈥� a country that has long been held as a beacon of hope and prosperity for the rest of the world. But the reality, they say, is disappointing.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a country that people in Africa look up to and rely on if something happens in the world. 鈥榃e have America, they have the best of everything, so we鈥檒l be good,鈥欌€� Sibisi says. 鈥淎nd then we see America having the highest [COVID鈥�19] rates in the whole world and it鈥檚 like, 鈥極kay, who do we look up to? Who do we rely on now?鈥欌€�
For the record 鈥� we don鈥檛 have the highest rates in the world, but for a developed country we are definitely up there.
Leo Vidal, a college student from the Dominican Republic, echoes that concern about America鈥檚 diminished standing during the pandemic.
鈥淲e always looked up to the United States 鈥� this big country, they鈥檝e got plenty of stuff figured out. But with these protests you realize there鈥檚 still stuff to work on. But that鈥檚 okay because we鈥檙e all human and no one is perfect,鈥� he says.
Vidal is kicking around a soccer ball in the city park. He worries that the political divisiveness in America is an open wound that tyrants can take advantage of 鈥� just like Rafael Trujillo did in 1930 when he nabbed control of the Dominican Republic for three decades.
鈥淗e took advantage of divisions that were happening around the country,鈥� he says. 鈥淭here was a civil war and he took advantage of that and killed thousands of people there. That鈥檚 scary. That鈥檚 what happens when people get divided and that鈥檚 what is happening here. That鈥檚 really scary and dangerous, you know?鈥�
After my conversation with Vidal, I did a deep-dive on Rafael Trujillo and modern-day comparisons with President Trump. A couple of years ago, a professor from Lewis University, a small private college in the Midwest, .
鈥淚t is quite a stretch to suggest that Trump is Trujillo brought back to life,鈥� Michael Cunningham wrote. 鈥淲hile history does indeed take strange paths, it鈥檚 evident early in the Trump presidency that he faces powerful pockets of opposition, even within his own party. This resistance suggests that his autocratic tendencies will not do the kind of harm that they might if unleashed in other weaker societies, like that in the Dominican Republic in 1930.鈥�
鈥淚t is quite a stretch to suggest that Trump is Trujillo brought back to life,鈥� Michael Cunningham wrote. 鈥淲hile history does indeed take strange paths, it鈥檚 evident early in the Trump presidency that he faces powerful pockets of opposition, even within his own party. This resistance suggests that his autocratic tendencies will not do the kind of harm that they might if unleashed in other weaker societies, like that in the Dominican Republic in 1930.鈥�
Still, Cunningham noted the similarities between the two leaders, including an appeal to nationalism and racism.
After reading the essay, I take pause and ask myself a fundamental question that I鈥檝e so far failed to answer during this odyssey across the Mountain West 鈥� why do so many rural Westerners support a president who uses racist language and who critics call the divider in chief?
The flags are everywhere 鈥� flying from the backs of pickup trucks or hoisted up in front lawns from Lolo, Montana to Rexburg, Idaho.
Yet most of the people I鈥檝e talked to along the way are disgusted by the president鈥檚 actions. They include life-long Republicans like Tanner Boyack, a Latter-day Saint attending computer programming classes at BYU-Idaho.
鈥淚鈥檓 just not a fan of the attitude of Trump, as well as the cultist following that a lot of people have with him,鈥� he says.
I鈥檝e heard that sentiment a handful of times on this trip. I鈥檝e also interviewed a few supporters of the president, but no one who is as fervently excited by his personality as the flags around me suggest.
I鈥檒l be honest 鈥� I demure when I see one of those trucks flying the Trump flag. I assume they don鈥檛 want to talk to the media, especially someone from public radio. As one Leadore resident warned me, they see public media as a leftist institution just as others see Fox 暗黑爆料 as conservative. But I鈥檓 making it my goal from here on out to speak with an enthusiastic, flag-flying supporter of our president. Stay tuned.
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