Judy and Bug are separated by 61 years, three generations and 15 US presidential elections. Judy shaped her faith after the war. Bug is 18 and church is “not his thing.” She saw him grow up as a “perfect little girl.” Then Bug revealed to his great-grandmother that he was transgender. Despite everything, he moved into Judy’s small house in Altoona. The town is located in deepest Pennsylvania, one of the particularly hotly contested swing states in the upcoming presidential election. At the kitchen table they argue about whether Donald Trump is America’s future.
It’s one of the last warm days in Altoona, two hours east of Pittsburgh. The sun shines on modest houses in a quiet residential area with neatly trimmed lawns. A small canopy provides shade as Judy Wood appears in the doorway, leaning on her cane. A Democratic campaigner knocked on her door to convince her to vote for Kamala Harris.
Judy’s face takes on an expression somewhere between doubt and despair. “This is the most confusing election I’ve ever, ever, ever experienced. And I’m 79 years old,” she complains. She doesn’t like the bombastic Trump, but Harris is also “just a bit too much.” The former nurse offers the reporter observing the scene to come back later. Then her great-grandchild will also be home from school.
“I considered Trump”
The living room and kitchen of the bungalow are crammed with papers, jars, boxes and bits and bobs, among which cats spend the afternoon. Bug stands at the sink and initially avoids looking. Then he sits down next to Judy at the wooden table, his round face thoughtful and serious, a dark hoodie, two piercings in his lower lip.
On Judy’s T-shirt, however, the words faith, hope and love are written. “I’m Catholic,” she emphasizes, as if that should say everything. Also about her attitude towards Harris. After all, she is a supporter of abortion. Trump, on the other hand, appointed the Supreme Court justices who overturned the nationwide right to abortion in 2022.
Despite his money, the Republican is less elitist, says Judy. He is someone who can hit the table like normal people. Actually, someone like that should rule the country. “I have considered Trump at times,” she says.
Bug Novak’s brow furrows as he listens. There is no question that he will vote for Harris in his first election, even if she is not critical enough of Israel. “I saw both debates, but the one with her and Trump was crazy, she speaks much more professionally than he does,” says the 18-year-old. “He talks like a child and he’s so weird and so annoying. I hate him.”
A city like a disbanded party
Judy has witnessed Altoona’s decline for decades. A trip there is like attending a party that has long since ended. The city once thrived as a railroad hub, where engineers crossed the Appalachian Mountains in 1854, making routes west possible. In 1930 there were over 80,000 people here and an impressive cathedral was built.
However, with the expansion of highways, Altoona became less important. Today only half of the former population lives in the rolling hills of the conservative heartland, often cut off from the wealth of the coast.
Pennsylvania, the most important swing state and former industrial center, could decide the political fate of the USA. Conservative rural counties contrast with liberal cities like Philadelphia. Polls show Harris and Trump tied. Whoever wins here will be very close to the White House.
Prices, abortion, migrants
Social media and TV channels give the impression that Americans argue endlessly and bitterly about politics. The opposite is also true in Altoona: Most people don’t follow the election campaign closely. But the division in the USA is reflected in the conversations between the election campaigners at the doors. Issues such as inflation, abortion and migration dominate, often with blame.
Some see Harris as a threat to security through open borders, others accuse Trump of encroaching on women’s rights. It is noticeable that tense conversations often become calmer and more understanding. Is “the other side” perhaps not so different? Unity is rare, but a handshake is often possible.
An unlikely couple
At the kitchen table in the cluttered bungalow, Judy emphasizes that although she and her great-grandson are also an “odd couple,” she thinks very highly of Bug. Unlike other young people, he uses his head. He moved in with her four years ago. Initially because his mother went to a neighboring town. Bug stayed. “She’s pretty laid back,” he says of Judy. “We each just do our own thing.”
Judy’s house is a testament to a life well lived. A good ten years ago she cared for her mother, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s, until she had to go into the home and died. Today there are religious sayings, children’s photos of Bug and family pictures from different decades hanging on the refrigerator.
“My world was very different when I was growing up,” she says thoughtfully. A harshness creeps into her voice, reminiscent of those older people who no longer understand the world. “Today’s youth are raised without respect for adults, for leadership,” complains Judy. She can understand “why people vote for Trump in today’s world.” And for his promise to return America to its old values and strength.
Bug interrupts: “It’s more like you’re taught to respect people without thinking about it.”Judy: “Right.”
Bug: “Today people grow up thinking that if they respect you, treat others with respect.”
Judy thinks. “You’re right. You’re very right,” she then says. Her expression brightens.
“Perfect little girl”
When Bug asked his teachers to address him as a boy from then on, his life became more difficult. Some were reluctant. Classmates called him “fag.” But it didn’t stop there. “I’ve been using the boys’ bathroom for a while now,” he says. “And once when I went in during lunch break, some kids tried to kick down my door.”
Bug’s experiences are not an isolated case. In the USA, the rights of transgender people are constantly being questioned. They are a target of the right and an issue for Trump. Judy is proud of how Bug defies the attacks. Although her grandson is often alone in Altoona, he has found friends online.
Judy still calls Bug “Abbi” – even though she knows that’s wrong. “She was my first great-granddaughter and I remember her playing with dolls and being a perfect little girl,” she explains. “I remember this little girl, and now she’s this big girl here -“. She interrupts herself and says: “This big transsexual here.” Bug says that’s enough for him as long as his great-grandmother lets him do the rest.
“American anger personified”
Both will go to the polling station together on November 5th. Bug’s decision is clear: Trump is, after all, “American anger personified.” Judy says the ex-president is a fighter, but doesn’t deserve respect after the storming of the Capitol.
Judy: “Trump tells things as they are.”
Bug: “As he sees them!”
Judy: “How he sees them – and how many other people in America see them, I think. But he’s not a leader. He’s not one.”
Judy pauses briefly and says: “I’ll vote for her.”