I constantly ask myself how America got back here, even considering the possibility of Donald Trump being elected again, after all the damage he has done, both in office and since. While Kamala Harris has gained extraordinary momentum by bringing vitality and hope to this election, I fear that too many Americans remain disconnected from the deep, psychologically draining memory of Trump’s deeply destabilizing presidency. If enough people really remember what that mess was like, another Trump term wouldn’t be on the table. But for those who are open to seeing the naked, unvarnished truth, there are unmistakable reminders of Trump’s destructive path all around us, and it broke my heart to see my father become one of them.
As Rudy Giuliani’s daughter, I am unfortunately well-suited to remind Americans just how disastrous association with Trump can be, even for those who are convinced he is on their side. Watching my father’s life unravel since he joined Trump has been deeply painful, both personally and because his death seems linked to a dark force that threatens to consume America once again. We should never ignore individual accountability, but it would be naive of us to ignore the fact that many of those closest to Trump have descended into a disastrous downward spiral. If we allow Trump back in the driver’s seat this fall, our country will be no exception.
My father and I have a complicated cartoon relationship. But he’s still my father, and despite his faults, I love him. I’ve seen him suffer surreal highs, and now, unfathomable lows. The last thing I want to do is hurt him, especially when he’s already frustrated. Plus we never know how much time we have left with our parents. The whole thing makes this the most difficult piece I’ve ever written. However, this moment and this election are so much bigger than any one of us.
From reproductive rights and economics to foreign and environmental policy, we need experienced, sensible, and fundamentally respectful leaders who will fight for us rather than against us — and who will protect our democracy rather than dismantle it. As a newly engaged, 35-year-old who is hopefully more excited than scared about the prospect of becoming a parent, I need to advocate for a future worth having kids, which is why I’m voicing my utmost support for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz.
I’ll never forget the night my dad told me he was thinking about becoming Trump’s lawyer. I was with him at the Grand Havana Room, a cigar bar at the top of 666 Fifth Avenue, a very appropriate address given the unholy alliance my father was about to enter into.
Surrounded by thick smoke and strong men, I ugly-cried for a few minutes, then spent the next three hours desperately pleading with my father not to take this morally perilous path.
It was very rare for my father to tell me he was going to do anything before he actually did it, so this moment of calling him also felt like a cosmic opportunity to do my part to limit the spread of Trump’s evil shadow. I didn’t carry anything. I expressed all my concerns about Trump’s overt racism, rampant misogyny, and complete lack of empathy. I even told my father that I already felt ashamed of my last name whenever I saw headlines linking it to Trump, and that this escalation would only deepen that feeling. For the rest of that night, I held out hope that the daughter’s emotional pleading might actually sway the father.
This fantasy was dispelled the next morning when a news story appeared on my web page: Rudy Giuliani was going to work for Donald Trump. The pit I felt in my stomach was a warning, but I had no idea how much devastation my father would face because of his one-sided loyalty to a con man. Growing up in Gracie Mansion, I always knew I was living a privileged life. But a certain set of challenges came with being Rudy Giuliani’s daughter, and by that point in my life, I had mostly learned how to overcome them.
But nothing I experienced had prepared me for the relentless, public unraveling of my father’s life.
As someone who has overcome a deep-rooted eating disorder and worked through many aspects of anxiety and depression, I am no stranger to processing complex emotions. But this new albatross left me grounded with a powerful mixture of fear, anger, confusion, and sadness that often made me cry for and for my father at the same time. I always saw flaws in my father that people blinded by his fame couldn’t see, but on some level, the ridiculous scale of his success and notoriety also made it hard to believe that anything could actually bring him down. I’ve spent a lot of my life wishing my father was less powerful. But I never wanted it to happen like this. Selfishly, the longer my father got stuck in the quicksand of his own problems, the more fleeting our opportunities to connect as father and daughter became. After months of feeling grief over the death of a loved one, it occurred to me that I was grieving the loss of my father because of Trump. I can’t bear for our country to lose him too.
I know some people might wonder if I really care about my father, because another Trump presidency could theoretically alleviate some of the problems he faces. It bothers me to think that my father would wonder about this. But if you zoom out, Trump being president was the worst thing that ever happened to my father, to my family, and to our nation’s modern history. The consequences will never be more serious – and irreversible – again. Thanks to the extreme Supreme Court he has amassed, Trump will take office with complete immunity: with no checks on his power whatsoever. If the president is not subject to the law like any other citizen, which remains incomprehensible to me, then our president better have a moral compass. A 34-time convicted felon convicted of sexual assault, trying to steal an election, and insulting people based on race, gender, disability status, and gender, falls remarkably short of the standard we should be setting ourselves as a country. Fortunately, we have another option in this election: a lifelong public servant who has spent her career upholding justice and fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves.
