In this blog, I trace my personal and political evolution as an American expatriate who once embraced progressive ideals but now sees their excesses from afar. I reflect on how noble intentions gave way to corrosive identity politics, prompting a realignment around a conservative vision that honors, rather than hides, Western heritage. I argue that Trump’s rise was not a cause, but a consequence—an overdue reckoning for many who felt culturally sidelined. Looking forward, I advocate for a conservatism that channels grievance into principled inclusion, preserving core traditions while welcoming those who wish to contribute without dismantling what came before.
When I expatriated from America in 2003 and settled in India, I brought with me the progressive ideals that had shaped much of my early adult life. Like many of my generation raised in the post-Civil Rights era, I had internalized a sense of moral duty: to acknowledge the sins of the past, to elevate the oppressed, and to adopt a posture of humility regarding my own cultural inheritance.
Back then—in the ’80s, ’90s, and early 2000s—such a worldview was a badge of virtue. I willingly accepted the idea that being white, male, Christian, or American came with an inherent burden. I spoke the language of privilege, structural injustice, and historical guilt. Like so many, I believed this posture was necessary to be a good citizen in a changing world.
But over the past two decades, something shifted. What began as a noble attempt at reconciliation has hardened into something much darker: a culture that increasingly sees whiteness not as a neutral trait, but as a stain. The ideals I once embraced have evolved into an ideology that often seems anti-white, anti-male, anti-Christian, and anti-American at its core. The balance tipped. And from where I stand now—half a world away—the double standards are no longer subtle. They are glaring.
Watching from India, I began to see what many Americans are only now beginning to realize: the cultural left has been hijacked. Identity politics has turned corrosive. Institutions once dedicated to dialogue, inclusion, and fairness now seem to demand ideological conformity and self-erasure. And while minority voices on the left have been celebrated for their defiance, white Americans—especially men—have been told to sit down, shut up, and apologize for things they never did.
Enter Trump.
Donald Trump did not invent the backlash—he merely gave it a voice. His unapologetic, brash, and deeply American message resonated with those who had long felt alienated by a cultural elite that dismissed their concerns. While Trump never explicitly called for a resurgent white identity, his call for pro-Americanism touched something deeper: it spoke to the white, male, Christian base that had quietly borne the brunt of cultural derision for years.
Over time, the Trump movement expanded. It became more than just a reaction—it evolved into a coalition. Today, some of the most dynamic conservative voices are either deeply tolerant of diversity or diverse themselves. From Indian-American governors to black intellectuals, from first-generation immigrants to religious minorities, the tent has grown wider. And yet, at the center of it all remains a core identity—one forged in the white, Christian, Western tradition.
That tradition deserves to be honored, not hidden.
To the bloc of disenfranchised white men who now find themselves politically awakened, I say this: your anger is not invalid, but it must be channeled wisely. The conservative movement has an opportunity to do what the modern left failed to do—to absorb grievance without being consumed by it, to welcome new voices without allowing the loudest to hijack the platform.
We must be honest about what we’re trying to conserve. I have lived under many systems, governed by many kinds of people, and I say without hesitation: the system built by white, Christian Westerners is the most tolerant, the most prosperous, and the most humane I have seen. That does not make its people superior—but at the very least it makes its ideas worthy of preservation.
This movement must remain rooted in those ideals. We do not need to dilute them to be inclusive. We do not need to erase ourselves to welcome others. We can be proud of our heritage, while still inviting others to contribute to it. We can speak frankly about the culture we wish to sustain without shame.
Let us be clear-eyed: the future of conservatism depends on walking a fine line. It must give voice to the aggrieved without becoming reactionary. It must preserve its cultural DNA while still evolving. It must remain a home for the traditional American man—white, Christian, rooted in duty and heritage—while also opening the door to others who want to build, not tear down.
If we succeed, we will have built something the modern left never could: a truly durable coalition. One that values freedom over guilt, inclusion over resentment, and heritage over erasure.
Let that be the next great chapter of the American story.
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