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      The G.O.P.’s Culture War Shtick Is Wearing Thin With Voters

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      The Republican Party has always leaned on culture war issues to win elections, but for the last three years, since Joe Biden won office in 2020, an aggressive and virulent form of culture war demagoguery has been at the center of Republican political strategy.If the results of Tuesday’s elections in Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio tell us anything, however, it’s that this post-Roe form of culture warring is an abject failure, an approach that repels and alienates voters far more than it appeals to or persuades them.To be fair to Republican strategists, there was a moment, in the fall of 2021, when it looked like the plan was working. Glenn Youngkin, the Republican nominee for governor in Virginia, ran on a campaign of “parents’ rights” against “critical race theory” and won a narrow victory against Terry McAuliffe, a former Democratic governor, sweeping Republicans into power statewide for the first time since 2009. Youngkin shot to national prominence and Republicans made immediate plans to take the strategy to every competitive race in the country.In 2022, with “parental rights” as their rallying cry, Republican lawmakers unleashed a barrage of legislation targeting transgender rights, and Republican candidates ran explicit campaigns against transgender and other gender nonconforming people. “They kicked God out of schools and welcomed the drag queens,” said Kari Lake, an Arizona Republican, during her 2022 campaign for governor. “They took down our flag and replaced it with a rainbow.”Republican candidates and political committees spent millions of dollars attacking gender-affirming care for minors and transgender participation in youth sports. Republican opponents of Michigan’s initiative to protect abortion access in the state warned voters that it would give transgender youth the right to obtain certain forms of care without parental consent. An ad aired in opposition to Abigail Spanberger, a Virginia Democrat running for re-election to the House that year, portrayed gender-affirming care as a way to “chemically castrate” children.Lake lost her race. Michigan voters successfully amended their state Constitution to protect the right to an abortion. Spanberger won re-election, too. Overall, election night 2022 was a serious disappointment for the Republican Party, which failed to win a Senate majority and barely won control of the House of Representatives. The hoped-for red wave was little more than a puddle. The culture war strategy had fallen flat on its face.Undaunted, Republicans stepped back up to the plate and took another swing at transgender rights. Attorney General Daniel Cameron of Kentucky, the Republican nominee for governor of that state, and his allies spent millions on anti-transgender right ads in his race against the Democratic incumbent Andy Beshear. In one television ad, a narrator warns viewers of a “radical transgender agenda” that’s “bombarding our children everywhere we turn.” Beshear won re-election.Youngkin was not on the ballot in Virginia, but he led the effort to win a Republican trifecta in the state, targeting Democrats once again on parents’ rights and endorsing candidates who ran hard against transgender inclusion in schools. “No more are we going to make parents stand outside of the room,” Youngkin said, to a crowd of Republicans on Monday at a rally in Leesburg. “We are going to put them at the head of the table in charge of our children’s lives.”One candidate for State Senate Youngkin endorsed, Juan Pablo Segura, told Fox News that he wants to revisit a failed bill that would have required schools to notify parents if there was any hint a child was interested in transgender identity.Segura lost his race and Youngkin and his fellow Republicans failed to either flip the State Senate or hold on to the House of Delegates. He’ll face a Democratic majority in both chambers of the General Assembly for the rest of his term in office.Some Ohio Republicans also tried to turn their fight against a reproductive rights initiative into a battle over transgender rights, falsely stating that the wording of the amendment would allow minors to obtain gender-affirming surgeries without parental consent. On Tuesday, Ohio voters backed the initiative, 56 percent to 43 percent.I can think of three reasons that voters — going back to the 2016 North Carolina governor’s race, fought over the state’s “bathroom bill” — have not responded to Republican efforts to make transgender rights a wedge issue.There’s the fact that transgender people represent a tiny fraction of the population — they just aren’t all that relevant to the everyday lives of most Americans. There’s also the fact that for all the talk of “parents’ rights,” the harshest anti-trans laws trample on the rights of parents who want to support their transgender children.Additionally — and ironically, given the Republican Party’s strategic decision to link the two — there’s the chance that when fused together with support for abortion bans, vocal opposition to the rights of transgender people becomes a clear signal for extremist views. The vibe is off, one might say, and voters have responded accordingly.If the Republican Party were a normal political party that was still capable of strategic adjustment, I’d say to expect some rhetorical moderation ahead of the presidential election. But consider the most recent Republican presidential debate — held on Wednesday — in which candidates continued to emphasize their opposition to the inclusion of transgender people in mainstream American life. “If God made you a man, you play sports against men,” declared Senator Tim Scott of South Carolina, at the conclusion of the debate.So I suppose that when the next election comes around, we should just expect more of the same.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      in US Politics

      She was censored over trans rights. But lawmaker Zooey Zephyr won’t be silenced

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      Zooey Zephyr had just arrived on the outskirts of far-flung Libby, Montana, this summer when a text message came through with a warning. There were anti-LGBTQ+ protesters at the Pride celebration that was already under way on the banks of the Kootenai River.Calm and steady, she pulled her white rental sedan into the lot and brought it to a stop. Instead of protesters, the car was immediately thronged by a cluster of fans. One, a middle-aged woman with long, wavy brown hair cascading from under a bedazzled baseball cap, asked Zephyr with urgency: “Do you remember me?”Later that afternoon, the woman who approached Zephyr took to the Pride stage to tell her story.She had feared coming out as transgender for years in this small, conservative town, but finally got the courage to do so when she witnessed Zephyr, 35, a Democratic state representative from Missoula, stand up to a legislative body controlled by Republicans hellbent on silencing her and driving her out of the state capitol where she was elected to serve. Seeing another trans woman refuse to be silenced gave her the power to live her own truth.This is what it’s like traveling with Zephyr – even to a remote, Republican-controlled corner of the massive state where she was born and raised. Montanans from all walks of life – many of whom have been cast aside and told their lives and politics don’t matter and won’t be heard – show up to tell her their stories and look for some hope in return.There is the fantasy of Montana that gets too much national attention, fawning stories of pristine public lands, macho cowboys and sprawling ranches. Amid rapid gentrification, those relics are all becoming figments of the collective American imagination.And then there is truly remote, rural Montana, the barely mentioned places like Libby. This community of fewer than 3,000 sits on the lush curves of a river beneath the Cabinet mountains in the north-west corner of the state, closer in place and conservative politics to north Idaho and eastern Washington than any major city in Montana.It’s a former asbestos mining town, one that voted Democratic for decades. It weathered a huge industrial poisoning scandal linked to the mine in the 1990s and early 2000s, which killed nearly 700 residents over the years. It’s a place beaten up by extractive corporate interests and nearly forgotten. But this year’s Pride celebration, one of the first organizers have ever pulled off, was vibrant, joyous and filled with dozens of supporters. (It was smaller than last year’s event, the organizers say, and they fear that was due to the wave of anti-queer and anti-trans rhetoric that has flooded Montana and other parts of rural America.)The protesters Zephyr was warned about, a cluster of angry-looking white men, were there, walking menacingly through the crowd. One carried a placard that read: “If you’re looking for a sign to kill yourself, this is it.” No one paid them much attention.I ask Zephyr what she would have done if confronted by the protesters. She smiled and said without missing a beat: “What do you think I’d do? I’d talk with them.”We’ve spent enough hours together now that I know she’s serious.Zephyr has become a symbol of graceful defiance in a state recently flooded with hate-riddled speech and politics. But how did she – a gamer, an elite wrestler as a child and later a dance instructor – become one of Time magazine’s “100 Next”, leaders the publication anointed as people who could change the world?Her rise to international fame began in 2022, when she became the first openly transgender woman elected to the Montana legislature, after a grassroots campaign prompted by the Republican majority’s mounting attack on trans rights and the independent judiciary system.The 2023 legislature, which convened in January, included a spate of legislation that undercut medical care and other essential rights for trans people. To be clear, these were not issues rising from a groundswell of popular support. Montana has only recently flipped to being deep red politically, and the most talked-about topic across the state these days is the unaffordability of housing.Making life difficult for trans people is not something most voters were demanding. But Republicans insisted that trans rights were a threat and pursued legislation, ignoring hours of testimony against the bills.The severity of the attack on trans rights in Montana was new; far-right conservatives targeting the marginalized as a tactic is not. Ken Toole, who was director of the Montana Human Rights Network through battles over gay rights and marriage equality in the 1990s and 2000s, recalls a similar landscape. “The conservative movement in the state used these kinds of issues to characterize the political debate [then and now],” he said. “Essentially, it’s scapegoating.”This spring, during a debate over a bill to limit gender-affirming care for youth, Zephyr spoke passionately against the legislation: “I hope the next time there’s an invocation, when you bow your heads in prayer, you see the blood on your hands,” she told the house.It was then that the Republican leadership decided her words went too far.Leadership demanded she apologize; she refused. Multiple studies have shown that trans youth have higher suicide rates, she argued, and this kind of legislation would have a detrimental impact on kids.In retaliation, the legislative leadership, run largely by one family, cut her microphone for three days, a move unprecedented in a citizen legislature with a long history of spicy rhetoric and fiery debates.On the third day of her silencing, a group of protesters filled the house gallery, a collection of seats above the grand chamber, to challenge what was happening. They chanted “Let her speak” as Zephyr held up her microphone and put a hand over her heart.Police in riot gear swept the protesters from the capitol and, in another historic move, the Republican leadership closed off public access to the gallery for the remainder of the legislative session. Republicans later voted to banish Zephyr from the house chambers, leaving her to set up a makeshift office on a bench outside the door of the body where she had been elected to serve. The next day, several women related to Republican legislators showed up and took over her bench, seemingly hoping to drive her out of sight.It was this anti-democratic wave against Zephyr and her own calm, deliberate opposition to fading away quietly that shot her into media stratosphere. The story spread fast and far in a country watching democratic norms fall away in Republican-controlled states.She appeared on ABC’s The View, was featured across national and international media, and was invited to national events. For months, her message seemed to be everywhere. Montana Republicans, in trying to silence one opposing voice, had accidentally turned her into a national star. For Zephyr, though, the moment was about much more than fleeting celebrity. She’s planning to build a lasting movement out of it.In each conversation I’ve had with Zephyr, her fiancee figures prominently. She proposed to Erin Reed, the trans journalist and activist, shortly after the legislative session ended this spring; they traveled to France to celebrate. Reed lives on the east coast, and for now Zephyr is committed to her work in Montana, making this state a more inclusive and safe place for families like her own.Zephyr was born in 1988 in Billings, Montana, still the state’s largest city. It’s long been the heart of conservative Montana politics, a place where ranchers and Chamber of Commerce types ran the show. Her own family was conservative and religious.She describes her childhood there as fairly unremarkable, like that of any other Montana kid. In 2000, her father’s work prompted the family to move to Seattle. There, Zephyr found her passion in sports, winning five state wrestling titles and finishing high school with an offer of a wrestling scholarship. She opted to stay closer to family and go to the University of Washington instead, but it’s clear that competitive sports shaped her. She still recites by memory the words of a banner that hung over the practice room: “Every day I leave this room a better wrestler and a better person than when I entered,” she says, adding how the coach made them slap the sign as they left the room.It’s become a personal motto.After graduation, Zephyr was called back to Montana. This time, as an adult, she went to Missoula to study creative writing at the University of Montana. She found a job at the university and worked part-time teaching the Lindy Hop at a local dance studio. In 2018, she reached the point in her life when it was time to come out to her community and transition. Her family’s response caused her to cut ties, but as she tells the story, Missoula, one of Montana’s more progressive cities, surrounded her with love and warmth.It was then that she chose her name: Zooey Simone Zephyr. Zooey, meaning life, Simone, a tribute to her paternal grandmother, and Zephyr, “a gentle breeze blowing from the west”.“I thought, ‘I want to be that, a gentle breeze,’” she says.Her community rallied around her. Her boss immediately had the restroom signs changed to remove gender markers, getting ahead of any questions. Her dance students didn’t bat an eye when she told them her name and identity as a woman. And her friends gathered at a brewery to celebrate the transition. The response from Missoula made her certain she was in the right place.In the years since, she has at times debated leaving Montana as the attacks on trans people mounted. But now, she says, “I’m not going anywhere. This is my state. I was born here. You can’t kick me out.”She toyed with the idea of running for a different office, but her heart is in organizing.We talked at length about the changing face of Montana and what it means to have grown up here, particularly when it seems the politics have been hijacked by a national agenda that has very little to do with ordinary people’s lives. She felt no one in elected office was listening to her, and so once she decided to run, she was dead set on winning.“I remember thinking to myself: if you really want to move the needle, you need representation,” she said.In Missoula, representation is spreading. Gwen Nicholson, a young Indigenous transgender woman who was born and raised there, is running for city council on a progressive platform centered on affordable housing.Nicholson worked in the capitol during the anti-trans onslaught this winter. She remembers thinking: “Why am I not welcome? Why does it feel like this place, which is my home and has been home to my family for generations, is trying to push me out?”Nicholson said she had confessed to a friend: “‘All this shit makes me want to run,’ and they were like, ‘Run away, or run for office?’ There has to be some material way to fight back.”This is the kind of movement Zephyr wants to see catch fire all across Montana. The state has been defined for generations by complex, sometimes surprising politics – but contemporary rhetoric has flattened its identity in recent years to that of just another deep red state. In traveling throughout her home state, she has found opinions that go far beyond the standard talking points that overwhelm political debate.“Every conversation you have with someone, you go to a community where Democrats haven’t run a candidate in a long time, and you talk to folks there, and they want to fight back,” Zephyr says.Zephyr will kick off a different kind of political effort in Montana beginning this fall. She’s creating a political action committee to raise money that will help her travel the state and recruit and train candidates for state office. In the last election, Democrats didn’t even appear on the ballot in one-third of legislative races, and the resulting landslide gave Republicans a supermajority and nearly unlimited power over Montanans’ lives. Dissenting voices were ignored and written off. Zephyr intends to build a movement that will empower progressives to run and win in places like Libby where Democrats haven’t won in years.“We can make that difference on the ground, we can move the needle on the ground here in a way that the national Democratic party wouldn’t know how to do,” she says. “It starts from the bottom.” More

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      in Elections

      Mike Johnson Is a Right-Wing Fever Dream Come to Life

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      Last week, on the eve of his first attempt to become speaker of the House, allies of Representative Jim Jordan of Ohio confidently predicted that his more mainstream and institutionalist opponents would cave rather than resist his ascent.Jordan’s allies were wrong about that particular caving. But they were right that those same moderates and institutionalists would eventually fall in line with the far-right of the House Republican conference because, on Wednesday, they did just that.After three weeks of chaos, the House Republican majority finally chose a speaker. The lucky legislator? Representative Mike Johnson from Louisiana’s Fourth Congressional District. A four-term backbencher with little leadership experience, Johnson was too obscure to have enemies, giving him an easy ride to the top after three previous nominees — Steve Scalise, the House majority leader; Jordan, the first chairman of the House Freedom Caucus; and Tom Emmer, the House majority whip — faltered in the face of opposition. After winning a nearly unanimous vote of the House Republican majority (one member was absent), Johnson became the 56th speaker of the House of Representatives.Mike Johnson is neither a moderate nor an institutionalist. Just the opposite. A protégé of Jordan’s, he comes, as you have doubtless heard, from the far-right, anti-institutionalist wing of the congressional Republican Party. And while he was not a member of the Freedom Caucus, he did lead the Republican Study Committee, a group devoted to the proposition that any dollar spent on social insurance is a dollar too much.When push came to shove, in other words, the supposedly moderate members of the House Republican conference were happy to defer to their most extreme colleagues on substance, if not on style.And what does Johnson believe? He is staunchly against the bodily autonomy of women and transgender people and supports a nationwide ban on abortion and gender-affirming care for trans youth. He is also virulently anti-gay. In a 2003 essay, Johnson defended laws that criminalized homosexual activity between consenting adults. In 2004, he warned that same-sex marriage was a “dark harbinger of chaos and sexual anarchy that could doom even the strongest republic.” Last year, Johnson introduced legislation that has been compared to Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” law, and he continues to push to overturn Obergefell v. Hodges, the Supreme Court decision that legalized same-sex marriage nationwide in 2015.If Johnson is known for anything, however, it is for his tireless advocacy on behalf of Donald Trump’s attempt to overturn the 2020 presidential election.Johnson wrote one of the briefs purporting to give a legal justification for throwing out the voting results in several swing states. He advanced the conspiracy theory that Venezuela was somehow involved with the nation’s voting machines. On Jan. 6, 2021, he urged his Republican colleagues to block certification of the election on the grounds that state changes to voting in the face of the pandemic were illegitimate and unconstitutional. When questioned, during his first news conference as speaker, whether he stood by his effort to overturn the 2020 election, he ignored the question, and his fellow Republicans shouted down the reporter who asked it.The new speaker is, in short, an election-denying extremist who believes that his allies have the right to nullify election results so that they can impose their vision of government and society on an unwilling public. He is Jim Jordan in substance but not Jim Jordan in style, which was enough for Republicans to come together to make him leader of the House and second in line to succeed the president of the United States in the case of emergency.The fractious House Republican majority cannot agree on how to fund the government. It cannot agree on whether to fund the government. It cannot agree on the scope of federal spending. It cannot even agree on whether it should do anything to govern the nation. But it can agree, it seems, to hand the reins of power to someone who showed no hesitation when asked to help overturn American democracy.During the summer of 2012, President Barack Obama told supporters that if he won the White House again, it would “break the fever” among Republicans. Instead, after Mitt Romney lost to Obama, the party embraced the worst version of itself and nominated Trump in 2016 and 2020. After Joe Biden won the 2020 presidential election, he expressed his hope that this time, with Trump’s departure from power, the Republican fever would finally break. Instead, the Republican Party went even deeper into the hole, hailing the former president’s failed attempt to keep himself in office as another lost cause and defending his leadership again and again.It’s not that the fever won’t break. It’s that there is no fever to break. The far-right extremism and open contempt for democracy that marks much of modern Republicanism is not an aberration. It’s not a spell that might fade with time. It is the Republican Party of 2023 and it will be the Republican Party of 2024. And while Trump may, for either legal or political reasons, eventually leave the scene, there’s no reason to think the Republican Party will revert to a state where the Mike Johnsons are back on the sidelines.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      in Elections

      Where Mike Johnson Stands on Key Issues: Ukraine, LGBTQ Rights and More

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      The new House speaker, an evangelical Christian, has a staunchly conservative record on gay rights, abortion, gun safety and more.Speaker Mike Johnson, the little-known congressman from Louisiana who won the gavel on Wednesday, is deeply conservative on both fiscal and social issues, reflecting the G.O.P.’s sharp lurch to the right.Mr. Johnson, a lawyer, also played a leading role in former President Donald J. Trump’s efforts to overturn the 2020 election, helping to push a lawsuit to throw out the results in four battleground states he lost and then offering members of Congress a legal argument upon which to justify their votes to invalidate the results.He has a career rating of 92 percent from the American Conservative Union and 90 percent from Heritage Action for America.Here’s where he stands on six key issues.Government fundingMr. Johnson is a fiscal conservative who believes Congress has a “moral and constitutional duty” to balance the budget, lower spending and “pursue continued pro-growth tax reforms and permanent tax reductions,” according to his website.He voted in favor of the deal in May to suspend the debt ceiling negotiated between former Speaker Kevin McCarthy and the Biden administration. But alongside 89 other Republicans, Mr. Johnson voted against the stopgap funding bill Mr. McCarthy put forth last month to stave off a government shutdown just hours before it was to commence. That bill ultimately passed with more Democratic than Republican support and cost Mr. McCarthy the gavel.In a letter this week, before he was elected speaker, Mr. Johnson proposed a short-term funding bill to avoid a shutdown and an aggressive calendar for passing yearlong spending bills in the interim. But he did not specify what spending levels he would support in the temporary bill, and many Republicans have refused to back such measures without substantial cuts that cannot pass the Democratic-controlled Senate or be signed by President Biden.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.We are confirming your access to this article, this will take just a moment. However, if you are using Reader mode please log in, subscribe, or exit Reader mode since we are unable to verify access in that state.Confirming article access.If you are a subscriber, please More

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      in US Politics

      Obscure Iowa non-profit produces new flyer calling Trump ‘trailblazer for trans’

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      An obscure non-profit political group in Iowa that has been attempting to portray Donald Trump as an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community is doubling down on its unlikely claim, producing a second flyer condemning the former president for “fighting conservatives” over trans rights.The mailer repeats the messaging from the original communication that the frontrunner for the Republican nomination for next year’s election is a “trailblazer for trans”.The new missive, reported on Saturday by the Iowa political blog Bleeding Heartland, introduces a rainbow-colored heart to the mix, and says Trump “opposed conservative members of Congress when they tried to strip the US Mexico Canada agreement of language protecting sexual orientation and gender identity”.Conversely, a 2019 analysis by the Yale law journal notes that the Trump administration, which it said was “hostile to transgender people”, had watered down such protections in the language of the agreement, but was unable to eliminate it entirely despite its best efforts.The flyer was published by a group called Advancing Our Values, a Des Moines-based non-profit that registered with the secretary of state’s office only two weeks ago. Renewed efforts by the Guardian to reach the group were unsuccessful.The fresh attack on Trump, which Bleeding Heartland said was sent as a mass mailing to an unknown number of households in Iowa, also states he “stood strong” against bathroom bills that deny access to toilets based on declared gender identity instead of that assigned at birth.While Trump has delivered contradictory messages on LGBTQ+ rights, saying he was “fine” with same-sex marriage during the 2016 campaign then rolling back protections for transgender patients as president, and overruling his own education secretary in 2017 to rescind protections for trans students.“It’s an odd piece of advertising,” David Peterson, a professor of political science at Iowa State University, told the Guardian after the first flyer was published.The origins of Advancing Our Values are unknown, although its agenda would seem to align with those opposing Trump for the Republican nomination.The campaign of rightwing Florida governor Ron DeSantis recently took down a “homophobic” video attacking Trump for his alleged support of trans rights, which he initially defended in the face of a wave of outrage.According to the group’s incorporation papers posted online, it registered as a section 501(c)(4) non-profit – a status that allows it to “engage in political campaigns on behalf of or in opposition to candidates for public office” as long as its activity is not the main fundraising arm for any candidate’s campaign.A person named Kyle Adema, of Nebraska, is listed as its chairperson. The Guardian was unable to reach Adema for comment.The Bleeding Heartland blog, which has been researching the group, says it has “not found any link to operatives for … DeSantis”, but points out its objectives are the same: “To diminish support for Trump among potential Iowa Republican caucus-goers”.According to the blog author Laura Belin: “Discrimination against transgender people is popular in GOP circles, and presidential candidates often receive applause or ovations in Iowa for rhetoric opposing inclusive policies.” More

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      Biden esquiva el rótulo de progresista a ultranza

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      A pesar de su alianza con los partidarios del derecho al aborto y los defensores LGBTQ, el presidente ha evitado hábilmente verse envuelto en batallas sobre temas sociales muy controvertidos.Hace más de una década, el presidente Joe Biden se adelantó de manera memorable a Barack Obama en cuanto al apoyo al matrimonio entre personas del mismo sexo, pero en un evento para recaudar fondos en junio, cerca de San Francisco, no pudo recordar las letras LGBTQ.Aunque el Partido Demócrata ha hecho que la lucha por el derecho al aborto sea central en su mensaje político, Biden se declaró como “no muy partidario del aborto” la semana pasada.En un momento en el que los partidos políticos estadounidenses intercambian disparos feroces desde las trincheras de una guerra por las políticas sociales y culturales, el mandatario se mantiene al margen.Biden, un hombre blanco de 80 años que no está muy actualizado con el lenguaje de la izquierda, ha evitado en gran medida involucrarse en las batallas contemporáneas sobre el género, el aborto y otros temas sociales muy controvertidos, incluso cuando hace cosas como albergar lo que llamó “la celebración más grande del Mes del Orgullo jamás organizada en la Casa Blanca”.Los republicanos han tratado de empujarlo hacia esa batalla, pero parecen reconocer la dificultad: cuando los candidatos presidenciales del Partido Republicano prometen ponerle fin a lo que califican burlonamente como la cultura “woke”, a menudo apuntan sus dardos no directamente a Biden sino a las grandes corporaciones como Disney y BlackRock o al enorme “Estado administrativo” del gobierno federal. Los estrategas republicanos afirman que la mayor parte del mensaje de su partido sobre el aborto y las personas transgénero está dirigido a los votantes de las primarias, mientras que en las elecciones presidenciales se considera que Biden es mucho más vulnerable en temas relacionados con la economía, el crimen y la inmigración.La protección de Biden contra los ataques culturales podría parecer improbable para un presidente que ha defendido firmemente los derechos de la comunidad LGBTQ, y que es el líder de un partido que saca ventaja de la ola de políticas sobre el aborto y un hombre que le debe su presidencia al apoyo inquebrantable de los votantes negros de las primarias demócratas.A pesar de que a lo largo de los años ha adoptado posiciones que impulsaron a los demócratas —y luego al país— a adoptar actitudes más liberales en temas sociales, Biden se ha mantenido algo distante de los elementos de su partido que podrían plantearle problemas políticos. En junio, la Casa Blanca declaró que le había prohibido la entrada a una activista transgénero que había mostrado su pecho desnudo en su evento del Mes del Orgullo.Y aunque la edad de Biden se ha convertido en una de sus principales debilidades políticas, tanto sus aliados como sus adversarios dicen que también lo protege de los ataques culturales de los republicanos.Biden celebró el Mes del Orgullo en el jardín sur de la Casa Blanca el mes pasado.Pete Marovich para The New York Times“Todo el mundo quiere hablar de la edad que tiene Joe Biden, pero la verdad es que es su edad y su experiencia lo que le permite ser quien es y le permite decir las cosas y ayudar a las personas de una manera que nadie más puede”, afirmó Henry R. Muñoz III, exdirector de finanzas del Comité Nacional Demócrata. En 2017, en la boda de Muñoz, que es gay, Biden fue el oficiante de la ceremonia.Gran parte de la lealtad hacia Biden por parte de los demócratas de la comunidad LGBTQ proviene de su respaldo en 2012 a los matrimonios entre personas del mismo sexo, cuando Obama todavía se oponía oficialmente a eso. La posición de Biden se consideró políticamente arriesgada en ese momento, antes de que la Corte Suprema reconociera en 2015 el derecho de las parejas del mismo sexo a casarse, pero se ha convertido en algo de lo que se jactó durante su campaña de 2020.Biden también ha estado a la vanguardia en el reconocimiento de los derechos de las personas transgénero. En su primera semana en el cargo puso fin a la medida de la era de Donald Trump de prohibir la presencia de soldados transgénero en el Ejército. En diciembre, promulgó protecciones federales para los matrimonios entre personas del mismo sexo.Al mismo tiempo, Biden no ha adoptado la terminología de los activistas progresistas ni se ha dejado involucrar en debates públicos que podrían dejarlo fuera de la corriente política tradicional. El jueves, después del importante fallo de la Corte Suprema que puso fin a la acción afirmativa en las admisiones universitarias, una periodista le preguntó: “¿Esta es una corte rebelde?”Tras una breve pausa para pensar, Biden respondió: “Esta no es una corte normal”.Biden tampoco recuerda las palabras que la mayoría de los políticos estadounidenses utilizan para describir a la comunidad LGBTQ. En el evento de recaudación de fondos cerca de San Francisco el mes pasado, Biden lamentó la decisión de la Corte Suprema que el año pasado puso fin al derecho nacional al aborto y sugirió que ahora el objetivo de la corte serían los derechos de la comunidad gay.Manifestantes pro-LGBTQ protestaban ante una reunión del grupo conservador Moms for Liberty el viernes en Filadelfia.Haiyun Jiang para The New York TimesParafraseando a dos de los jueces conservadores, Biden afirmó: “No hay ningún derecho constitucional en las leyes para H, B… disculpen, para los gays, lesbianas, ya saben, para todo, todo el grupo. No hay protección constitucional”.Durante una parada en la Feria Estatal de Iowa durante su campaña de 2020, un agitador conservador que seguía a los candidatos presidenciales demócratas le preguntó a Biden: “¿Cuántos géneros existen?”.Biden respondió: “Hay al menos tres. No intentes jugar conmigo, chico”.Luego, tal vez sin darse cuenta de que su inquisidor era un activista de derecha, Biden agregó: “Por cierto, el primero en declararse a favor del matrimonio fui yo”.Sarah McBride, una senadora del estado de Delaware que recientemente comenzó una campaña para convertirse en el primer miembro transgénero del Congreso, afirmó que el lenguaje de Biden le había permitido solidificar a los demócratas en una agenda social progresista y “llegar a comunidades y grupos demográficos que aún no están completamente en la coalición”.“No se deja atrapar por una retórica que no sea comprensible para un votante intermedio”, afirmó McBride.McBride también señaló que la edad de Biden es útil para defender los argumentos de los demócratas sobre temas sociales sin alienar a los votantes escépticos.“Su experiencia le permite decir cosas que creo que se escucharían como más radicales si las dijera un político más joven”, afirmó McBride.Como la mayoría de los estadounidenses han aceptado el matrimonio entre personas del mismo sexo, los conservadores sociales han hecho de la oposición a los derechos de las personas transgénero un pilar de su política. Además, los republicanos que se postulan para remplazar a Biden tienden a centrarse en animar a los votantes de las primarias republicanas en vez de intentar convertir al presidente en un villano.“Es difícil retratar a un hombre blanco de 80 años como un férreo guerrero concienciado”, dijo Whit Ayres, encuestador de los candidatos republicanos desde hace mucho tiempo.El gobernador de Florida, Ron DeSantis, es quizás el principal proveedor del mensaje antiprogresista de los republicanos, lanzando improperios tanto en internet como en discursos. El último viernes de julio, su campaña incluso tachó a Trump de ser demasiado liberal en temas LGBTQ en un video controversial publicado en Twitter.En un mitin celebrado en junio en Tulsa, Oklahoma, DeSantis describió cómo se le acercaban veteranos militares que no querían que sus hijos y nietos se alistaran en las fuerzas armadas debido a los cambios políticos liberales instituidos por los demócratas, aunque el gobernador culpó a Obama tanto como a Biden.“Un ejército progre no será un ejército fuerte”, dijo DeSantis. “Hay que eliminar la politización. Y, en el primer día, arrancaremos todas las políticas de Obama-Biden para volver progre a las fuerzas armadas”.Biden nunca se ha presentado como un guerrero cultural de izquierda. Católico, hace mucho tiempo ha sido cauteloso con lanzarse de cabeza a las disputas por el derecho al aborto. Incluso cuando su campaña y su partido se preparan para hacer de su apuesta a la reelección un referendo sobre los esfuerzos republicanos para restringir aún más el aborto, Biden proclamó ante una multitud de donantes en los suburbios de Washington que él mismo no estaba muy ansioso por hacerlo.“¿Saben?, soy católico practicante”, dijo Biden la semana pasada. “No soy muy partidario del aborto. Pero ¿saben qué? Roe contra Wade estaba en lo correcto”.Durante mucho tiempo esa postura ha causado cierta consternación entre los demócratas. Hubo que esperar hasta junio de 2019, semanas después de comenzar su campaña de 2020 y bajo la inmensa presión de los aliados de su partido, para que Biden renunciara a su apoyo de larga data a la prohibición de la financiación federal de los abortos.Renee Bracey Sherman, fundadora de We Testify, un grupo que comparte historias de mujeres que han abortado, dijo que Biden tendría que adoptar una posición más enérgica a favor del derecho al aborto para animar a los votantes liberales en 2024. Sugirió que, de la misma manera que Biden recibe a equipos deportivos de campeonato en la Casa Blanca, debería invitar a mujeres que han abortado para vayan y cuenten sus historias.“Las elecciones de mitad de mandato muestran que los estadounidenses están con el aborto”, dijo Bracey Sherman. “El aborto tiene un índice de aprobación más alto que él. Debería subirse a la ola del aborto”.Kristi Eaton More

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      Ron DeSantis’s Campaign of Contempt

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      If you missed the previous newsletter, you can read it here.The version of most politicians that we need to worry about is the one that they don’t want us to see. That’s why campaign reporters dog them; they’re waiting for the veil to slip.But the version of Ron DeSantis that we need to worry about is the one that he proudly shows us. He embraces his meanness. He luxuriates in his darkness. Let other politicians peddle the pablum of inspiration. He prefers to ooze the toxin of contempt.That’s one of the morals of a provocative anti-gay, anti-trans video that the DeSantis campaign shared late last week. The campaign’s promotion of it prompted accusations of homophobia even from some Republicans, and justly so: In an attempt to smear Donald Trump, the video doesn’t just accuse him of coddling L.G.B.T.Q. Americans. It revels in DeSantis’s vilification of them.Initially distributed by a Twitter account called Proud Elephant, it presents a bizarre montage that’s superficially an anti-woke battle cry, pitting a truculent DeSantis against a scourge of degenerates. But while his viciousness comes through precisely as planned, so does something unintended: an undercurrent of homoerotic kink. Up pops a shirtless hunk with a ripped chest. Here’s a glowering Brad Pitt in his “Troy” drag. Are honchos with a Homer fetish some new thing? I need to get out more.But the perversely purposed beefcake is less striking than the way in which the video exultantly spotlights DeSantis’s biggest critics and celebrates their harshest criticism, treating the words with which they’ve described him and his initiatives as the best measures of his mettle. “Most extreme” becomes a trophy, “horrifying” a crown and “evil” a sash.The Florida governor is running one freaky and unsettling presidential campaign. He’s more focused on putting certain Americans in their places than on lifting others to new heights. He’s defined by the scores he pledges to settle instead of the victories he promises to achieve. He casts himself as someone to fear rather than revere. That video actually flashes an image of Christian Bale in “American Psycho” as a flattering DeSantis analogue.Vote DeSantis: He’s a monster, but he’s your monster.How does someone with that pitch possibly bring together and lead an entire diverse country, if he gets that chance, and what does it say about the United States today that he has come this far? Have we put tolerance, grand ideals and optimism so fully to rest? I remember “morning in America.” I guess it’s now midnight.To read deeply and widely about DeSantis is to learn that his cruel politics match a cold personality. He seems to trust almost no one other than his wife, who’s his twin in unalloyed ambition. He’s a collector of slights. He gets an A+ in grudge holding and an F in humility, and he’s taking etiquette pass/fail. He has resting disdain face.When I find pictures of him laughing, his expression is a bad stage actor’s — it’s a labored and spurious guffaw — as if a campaign aide intent on warming him up had just pulled hard on some string embedded in DeSantis’s back. Only his rants have a genuine air. He looked perfectly comfortable on Fox News recently saying that anyone who cut through a border wall between Mexico and the United States to traffic fentanyl would “end up stone cold dead.” He’s out to out-Trump Trump, who reportedly wondered aloud about a water-filled border trench stocked with snakes and alligators. I’m counting the minutes until DeSantis’s proposal for a moat stocked with great white sharks.Raising questions about illegal immigration and border security is necessary and just. But what’s served by doing so with such bloodthirstiness?Establishing guidelines for the age at which it’s appropriate for children in public schools to discuss sexual orientation and gender identity is legitimate. But what’s gained by inviting the word “groomers” into the conversation and casting yourself as a pulchritudinous gladiator who will teach them a pitiless lesson?DeSantis mistakes spite for spiritedness, bullying for strength. I hope voters don’t do likewise.Forward this newsletter to friends …… and they can sign up for themselves here. It’s published every Thursday.For the Love of SentencesErin Schaff/The New York TimesThe Supremes sure made lots of news lately, so let’s start with them. In Slate, Dahlia Lithwick parsed the generosity from billionaires that Justices Samuel Alito and Clarence Thomas have so richly enjoyed: “A #protip that will no doubt make those justices who have been lured away to elaborate bear hunts and deer hunts and rabbit hunts and salmon hunts by wealthy oligarchs feel a bit sad: If your close personal friends who only just met you after you came onto the courts are memorializing your time together for posterity, there’s a decent chance you are, in fact, the thing being hunted.” (Thanks to Robert E. Gordon of Sarasota, Fla., for nominating this.)In The Washington Post, Alexandra Petri mined that material by mimicking the famous opening line of “Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that an American billionaire, in possession of sufficient fortune, must be in want of a Supreme Court justice.” (Nicole Seligman, Sag Harbor, N.Y.)And in The Times, Tyler Austin Harper contextualized the battle over affirmative action: “Civil rights leaders did not endure the dogs and the cold baptism of the fire hoses in the hopes that one day their children’s children could become Ivy-minted venture capitalists and management consultants.” (Adam Fix, Minneapolis)Also in The Times, Farhad Manjoo discussed the futility of debating Robert Kennedy Jr.: “He starts with a few sprinkles of truth — Ohio’s vote was run by a partisan official, some vaccines have serious side effects — and then swirls them up with enough exaggerations, omissions and leaps of logic to create a veritable McFlurry of doubt.” (James Brockardt, Pennington, N.J.)Kim Severson noted how buffets struggled to emerge from the pandemic: “A model of eating based on shared serving spoons and food seasoned with the breath of strangers seemed like a goner.” (Elise Magers, Chicago)Alex Halberstadt introduced readers to the Oregon winemaker Maggie Harrison: “Warm, funny and observant in person, she cultivates a persona of a curmudgeon, the way an octopus might disguise itself as a rock to throw off sand sharks.” (Michael T. Reagan, Ottawa, Ill.) Also, of a tasting room of Harrison’s with an unappealing entrance: “The scene was so hushed and civilized-looking, after the dinginess of the exterior, that it was like entering a chapel through the back of an airport Cinnabon.” (Robert Mugford, Scottsdale, Ariz., and Tricia Chatary, Middlebury, Vt., among others)And Ligaya Mishan described a magical dessert from her Hawaiian childhood made by a frozen-treat wizard named Kon Ping Young: “He’d sneak in one of the whole plums, which he’d cover with more slush. I’d find it buried deep, a shriveled prize, so tangy that when I sucked on it, the world condensed to that one flavor, a tiny neutron star of sweet-sour-salt.” (Cindy Kissin, New Haven, Conn.)In The Washington Post, T.A. Frank traced the arc of Mike Pence: “When he was a radio host, Pence liked to call himself ‘Rush Limbaugh on decaf,’ a mild concoction even then, to say nothing of an era when even Limbaugh on meth would be too laid back for some of today’s partisans.” John Hitzeroth, Wilmington, Ohio, and Doug Sterner, Fort Lauderdale, Fla.)In The Ringer, Roger Sherman imagined how hard it was for N.B.A. teams to decide which of the 6-foot-6, identical Thompsons, Amen and Ausar, to draft first: “Normally, you can identify the evil twin by looking for the one with the handlebar mustache, but neither had one, making this a tough assignment for scouts.” (Marshall Sikowitz, Bassano del Grappa, Italy)And in The Boston Globe, Odie Henderson was rattled by moments in “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny” when a digitally de-aged Harrison Ford didn’t look quite right: “For the love of Ponce de León, stop using this technology until it’s perfected, Hollywood!” (Pat Isgro, Greenwich, N.Y.)To nominate favorite bits of recent writing from The Times or other publications to be mentioned in “For the Love of Sentences,” please email me here and include your name and place of residence.What I’m Watching, Reading and Listening ToSarah Lancashire in “Happy Valley.”James Stack/Lookout Point/AMCI wish I could say that I loved the third (and, apparently, final) season of the British crime drama “Happy Valley” as much as I loved the first one nine years ago, but this great series did what many great series do: It fell a bit too much in love with its main characters and the superb actors who played them. I refer to Sarah Lancashire as a grief-haunted police sergeant and James Norton as the perversely charismatic thug who had a heavy hand in her grief. The latest season, whose American airing wrapped up a little more than a week ago, seems intent on giving them tricky or intensely emotional scenes in which to show their acting chops, and they deliver and then some. But the trade-off is a sometimes sluggish pace and lugubrious air. Regardless, if you never found your way to “Happy Valley,” correct that. The whole of it is undeniably worth watching. (It’s streaming on AMC+ and Acorn TV; you can also purchase episodes or seasons, as I did, through Apple TV+. There’s more information here.)The Gay Pride month of June this year seemed to yield a particular bounty of reflections on what it means to be gay or queer, possibly because of a backlash in the United States right now against L.G.B.T.Q. people. The essay that most intrigued and delighted me appeared here in Times Opinion. It was Richard Morgan’s “As a Gay Man, I’ll Never Be Normal,” whose standout passages could have filled the entire For the Love of Sentences section this week. (Joan Vohl Hamilton, South Hadley, Mass., and Sarah Patrick, Carbondale, Ill., among others, nominated sentences from the essay.)Another recent article in The Times that I especially loved was Elisabeth Egan’s 25-years-later look at the phenomenon — and impact — of “Bridget Jones’s Diary.” It, too, is a gold mine of spirited prose, along with acute observations.Sally Jenkins of The Washington Post is a treasure (and appears frequently in For the Love of Sentences), and this recent article of hers about the friendship of the former tennis rivals Martina Navratilova and Chris Evert is a gem, also with sterling sentences galore about two women who “exemplify, perhaps more than any champions in the annals of their sport, the deep internal mutual grace called sportsmanship.” (Rebecca Howey, Detroit, and Tom Fortner, Point Clear, Ala., among others)I’ve retired the occasional newsletter feature that delved into great songs and song lyrics but will mention popular music randomly and occasionally in this space. A Pandora station of mine just introduced me to the young singer-songwriter Ilsey and “No California,” a relatively new single of hers. She has an album due in October, according to this article in Variety, which also embeds the song, so you can listen. Despite its love-lost subject matter, it’s buoyant, summery and very, very catchy.On a Personal Note (Odd Neighborhood Names)Errol Flynn in the 1938 film “The Adventures of Robin Hood.”Everett CollectionYou’ve been excellent about sending me examples of strangely or strikingly named streets, neighborhoods and towns, a subject that I first wrote about in January and revisited in this newsletter, this one and this one. Today’s Odd Neighborhood Names installment will be the last — we’ll find other fun topics to commune over — and I apologize to the many of you who have submitted unused material. Thanks to your generosity. I’ve had more options than space for them.Almost all have fallen into one of three categories. I think of the first as “let’s pretend we’re somewhere we’re not.” Jane Houssiere of Boulder, Colo., wrote: “I live on the interface where the Rocky Mountains meet the semiarid high plains. We are nowhere near any ocean.” But, she added, “developers must have been homesick for the coast.” Behold, in this mountainous interior, Barnacle Street, Starboard Drive, Driftwood Place, Sandpiper Circle, Beachcomber Court, Outrigger Court, Jib Court and more. It’s a high tide of nautical nomenclature.The second category is the motif-a-palooza, whereby the namers of streets work a theme as aggressively as my Regan does her favorite bones. Rob Boas of Atlanta alerted me to that city’s “Sherwood Forest” neighborhood, where the streets include Robin Hood Road, Friar Tuck Road, Lady Marian Lane, Nottingham Way and Little John Trail.John FX Keane of New Providence, N.J., noted that his childhood home of Binghamton, N.Y., has byways that pay homage to classical composers: Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Mozart, Schubert, Wagner and more.The motifs can be … unexpected. Mary Beth Norton noted that Ithaca, N.Y., has a grouping of streets seemingly named for cigarette and cigar brands: Winston Court, Salem Drive, Tareyton Drive and Muriel Street. Lest that seem eccentric, Barbara Lerner wrote that in the Gibson section of Valley Stream, N.Y., where she used to live, there is a profusion of roads with cigarette- or liquor-related appellations: Marlboro, Munro (an English gin), Carstairs (a blended whiskey), Gordon (gin), Dubonnet (vermouth). The Gibson, of course, is the martini’s cousin, garnished with a pickled onion rather than an olive.The third category: utter failures of imagination. Into this group falls what was probably your most nominated street name, Toronto’s soul-crushingly prosaic, spectacularly redundant Avenue Road. But Sheila Gerstenzang of Las Vegas wrote in with another fine example: Overthere Lane in North Las Vegas.Beyond those categories are street, neighborhood and town names that just don’t seem like such names at all. In Ipswich, Mass., there’s Labor in Vain Road, as a former Ipswich resident, Douglas Atkins, and a current one, Tamsin Venn, pointed out.And the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador is known for its amusing place names, including Dildo, Witless Bay, Blow Me Down, Tickle Harbour, Tickle Cove, Come by Chance and Heart’s Content. Thanks to Patricia Maher of Vancouver, B.C., for drawing attention to those. More

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      Biden Sidesteps Any Notion That He’s a ‘Flaming Woke Warrior’

      by

      Despite his alliance with abortion-rights supporters and L.G.B.T.Q. advocates, the president has deftly avoided becoming enmeshed in battles over hotly contested social issues.President Biden memorably jumped the gun on Barack Obama in endorsing same-sex marriage more than a decade ago, but at a June fund-raiser near San Francisco, he couldn’t recall the letters L.G.B.T.Q.And even as the Democratic Party makes the fight for abortion rights central to its political message, Mr. Biden last week declared himself “not big on abortion.”At a moment when the American political parties are trading fierce fire from the trenches of a war over social and cultural policy, the president is staying out of the fray.White, male, 80 years old and not particularly up-to-date on the language of the left, Mr. Biden has largely avoided becoming enmeshed in contemporary battles over gender, abortion and other hotly contested social issues — even as he does things like hosting what he called “the largest Pride Month celebration ever held at the White House.”Republicans have tried to pull him in, but appear to recognize the difficulty: When G.O.P. presidential candidates vow to end what they derisively call “woke” culture, they often aim their barbs not directly at Mr. Biden but at big corporations like Disney and BlackRock or the vast “administrative state” of the federal government. Republican strategists say most of their party’s message on abortion and transgender issues is aimed at primary voters, while Mr. Biden is seen as far more vulnerable in a general election on the economy, crime and immigration.Mr. Biden’s armor against cultural attacks might seem unlikely for a president who has strongly advocated for L.G.B.T.Q. people, the leader of a party whose fortunes ride on the wave of abortion politics, and a man who owes his presidency to unbending support from Black Democratic primary voters.Yet despite adopting positions over the years that pushed Democrats — and then the country — to embrace more liberal attitudes on social issues, Mr. Biden has kept himself at arms’ length from elements of his party that could pose him political problems. In June, the White House said it had barred a transgender activist who went topless at its Pride event.And while Mr. Biden’s age has become one of his chief political weaknesses, both his allies and adversaries say it also helps insulate him from cultural attacks by Republicans.Mr. Biden held a celebration of Pride Month on the South Lawn of the White House last month.Pete Marovich for The New York Times“Everybody wants to talk about how old Joe Biden is, but the truth of the matter is it’s his age and his experience allow him to be who he is and allow him to say the things and to help people in a way that nobody else can,” said Henry R. Muñoz III, a former Democratic National Committee finance director. Mr. Muñoz, who is gay, had Mr. Biden serve as his wedding officiant in 2017.Much of Mr. Biden’s loyalty from L.G.B.T.Q. Democrats stems from his 2012 endorsement of same-sex marriages when Mr. Obama was still officially opposed to them. Mr. Biden’s position was seen as politically risky at the time, before the Supreme Court in 2015 recognized the right of same-sex couples to marry, but has evolved into something he bragged about during his 2020 campaign.He has also been on the forefront of recognizing transgender rights. In his first week in office, Mr. Biden ended the Trump-era ban on transgender troops in the military. In December, he signed into law federal protections for same-sex marriages.At the same time, Mr. Biden has not adopted the terminology of progressive activists or allowed himself to be drawn into public debates that might leave him outside the political mainstream. On Thursday, after the Supreme Court’s major ruling ending affirmative action in college admissions, a reporter asked him, “Is this a rogue court?”Pausing to think for a moment, Mr. Biden responded, “This is not a normal court.”He also does not always remember the words most American politicians use to describe same-sex people. At the fund-raiser near San Francisco last month, Mr. Biden lamented the Supreme Court’s decision last year that ended the national right to an abortion and suggested the court was coming for gay rights next.Pro-L.G.B.T.Q. demonstrators protesting outside a gathering of the conservative group Moms for Liberty on Friday in Philadelphia. Haiyun Jiang for The New York TimesParaphrasing two of the conservative justices, he said: “There’s no constitutional right in the law for H-B, excuse me, for gay, lesbian, you know, the whole, the whole group. There’s no constitutional protection.”During a stop at the Iowa State Fair during his 2020 campaign, a conservative provocateur trailing the Democratic presidential candidates asked Mr. Biden, “How many genders are there?”Mr. Biden replied: “There are at least three. Don’t play games with me, kid.”Then, perhaps not realizing that his inquisitor was a right-wing activist, Mr. Biden added: “By the way, first one to come out for marriage was me.”Sarah McBride, a Delaware state senator who recently began a campaign to become the first transgender member of Congress, said Mr. Biden’s language gave him the ability to solidify Democrats behind a progressive social agenda and “reach communities and demographics that are not yet fully in the coalition.”“He’s not getting caught up on rhetoric that isn’t understandable for your middle-of-the-road voter,” Ms. McBride said.She also pointed to Mr. Biden’s age as helpful for making Democrats’ case on social issues without alienating skeptical voters.“His background allows him to say things that I think would be heard as more radical if they were said by a younger politician,” she said.As majorities of Americans have accepted gay marriage, social conservatives have made opposition to transgender rights a mainstay of their politics. And Republicans running to displace Mr. Biden have tended to focus on energizing G.O.P. primary voters rather than making a villain out of the president.“It’s hard to paint an 80-year-old white man as a flaming woke warrior,” said Whit Ayres, a longtime pollster for Republican candidates.Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida is perhaps the leading purveyor of Republicans’ anti-“woke” message, throwing barbs both online and in speeches. On Friday, his campaign cast even Mr. Trump as too liberal on L.G.B.T.Q. issues in a provocative video posted on Twitter.At a June rally in Tulsa, Okla., Mr. DeSantis described being approached by military veterans who don’t want their children and grandchildren joining the armed forces because of liberal policy changes instituted by Democrats — though the governor blamed Mr. Obama as much as he did Mr. Biden.“A woke military is not going to be a strong military,” Mr. DeSantis said. “You got to get the politicization out of it. And on Day 1, we’re ripping out all the Obama-Biden policies to woke-ify the military.”Mr. Biden has never presented as a left-wing culture warrior. A Catholic, he has long been wary about jumping headlong into fights over abortion rights. Even as his campaign and party are preparing to make his re-election bid a referendum on Republican efforts to further restrict abortion, Mr. Biden proclaimed to a crowd of donors in suburban Washington that he himself was not eager to do so.“You know, I happen to be a practicing Catholic,” Mr. Biden said last week. “I’m not big on abortion. But guess what? Roe v. Wade got it right.”That stance has long caused some consternation among Democrats. It took until June 2019, weeks after beginning his 2020 campaign and under immense pressure from allies in his party, for Mr. Biden to renounce his long-held support for banning federal funding for abortions.Renee Bracey Sherman, the founder of We Testify, a group that shares women’s stories of having abortions, said Mr. Biden would need to adopt a more forceful position in favor of abortion rights to energize liberal voters in 2024. She suggested that in the same way Mr. Biden hosts championship sports teams at the White House, he should invite women who have had abortions to come and tell their stories.“The midterms show that Americans love abortion,” Ms. Bracey Sherman said. “Abortion has a higher approval rating than he does. He should be riding the abortion wave.”Kristi Eaton More