Tuesday’s vice presidential debate between Gov. Tim Walz and Sen. JD Vance is being framed as the battle of the everyman — but it’s more like a contrast between the Minnesotan who wears his heart on his sleeve and the Ohioan who exchanged his heart for power.
The first time I met Vance was Nov. 9, 2016, on the set of “Good Morning America.” It was the day after the election. Donald Trump was to become president, and Vance told me he was not happy about it. In fact, earlier in the year Vance had compared Trump to Hitler. That morning in New York, Vance told me Trump didn’t care about poor white people, but just used them to win.
Opinion Columnist
LZ Granderson
LZ Granderson writes about culture, politics, sports, and navigating life in America.
Vance’s former dislike for his current running mate is well documented, though the reasons for his new position are less transparent. It’s important for Vance to explain his shift in politics and the timeline of his decision to run for Senate in 2021. This debate is his chance.
After the success of his bestselling memoir, “Hillbilly Elegy,” Vance started a pair of charities in Ohio. They folded without having much effect in part because his anti-MAGA messaging was not resonating in the area. So just as Vice President Kamala Harris needed to explain her changing views on fracking, Vance needs to explain how he went from thinking he was queer growing up, to being an ally as an adult, to calling the LGBTQ+ community “groomers” during his campaign.
When Vance and I connected back in 2016, it wasn’t about Trump. I told him I had read his memoir and appreciated his voice and perspective. We agreed compassion for those different from us was what the country needed at that moment more than ever before.
Today, the guy is not only hurling insults at people who don’t have children and at Haitian immigrants as Trump’s running mate but also is introducing anti-LGBTQ+ bills in the Senate as one of the young faces of the far right. What happened to the compassion, Vance?
“To these folks, poverty’s the family tradition,” he wrote about the community he grew up in. “Their ancestors were day laborers in the Southern slave economy, sharecroppers after that, coal miners after that, and machinists and mill workers during more recent times. Americans call them hillbillies, rednecks, or white trash. I call them neighbors, friends, and family.”
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Back in 2016, Vance and I talked about our shared experiences of poverty growing up and seeing the devastation of drug addiction in our communities. We exchanged contact information and kept in touch. I’m not saying we became best friends, but like many other people, I thought I knew him — and he was not the same man who is taking the debate stage against Walz on Tuesday.
America needs to know why Vance flipped from criticizing Trump over healthcare cuts to joining the attacks. And why he no longer believes his running mate is “America’s Hitler.” Especially given Trump’s continual affinity for dictators and moments of antisemitism.
Sofia Nelson befriended Vance at Yale Law School in the fall of 2010.
After graduation, the two remained close enough to sign off emails with “Love.” In 2016, Vance shared an excerpt of “Hillbilly” with Nelson, now a public defender in Detroit, because he was proud it included a prominent progressive lesbian.
When Nelson’s friendship with Vance became public, a spokesperson said Vance shifted his political views after he became a father in 2017. Nelson, who is transgender, said Vance didn’t shift until he decided that was the best way to win votes in Ohio. Before running for office, Vance questioned his sexual orientation in his memoir, experimented with drag in college, and brought Nelson baked goods after they had top surgery. It was only during his Senate run when Vance started calling queer people “groomers” and opposing same-sex marriage.
If Walz is expected to clarify past remarks during Tuesday’s debate, then Vance should be expected to explain why the shift away from LGBTQ+ allyship coincided with his run for office. Because it looks political, not authentic.
“It’s heartbreaking to see somebody you respected and cared about turn on you and your neighbors, especially in the context of knowing that’s not who he was,” Nelson told the New York Times.
Trump vs. Hillary Clinton brought out the worst in many Americans in 2016, and Vance and I were booked together on “GMA” to talk about healing. The last thing I said that day, with Vance nodding in agreement next to me, was: “This is a candidate that was endorsed by the newspaper of the KKK, so as racist things happen, … it would be helpful for the national conversation if he addresses it.”
We know how the story goes from here. At least when it comes to Trump.
What we don’t know is what happened to Vance between 2016 and 2021. On Tuesday, we all need to find out.
@LZGranderson
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In conclusion, the evolution of JD Vance’s political stances and beliefs raises important questions about authenticity and consistency. As he faces off against Gov. Tim Walz in the vice presidential debate, the American public deserves transparency and clarity regarding his shifting views on key issues. The contrast between Vance’s past positions and his current platform highlights the need for accountability and honesty in political discourse. Ultimately, voters must decide if Vance’s transformation is genuine or simply a strategic maneuver to gain support. The debate serves as a crucial opportunity for Vance to address these concerns and uphold the values of integrity and sincerity in public service.
