Advertisement “I still have a feeling, where people will be more openly racist if he’s in power,” Dolce said. But under Trump, he said, “I feel the economy will be in a better place.” His friend group of younger Black men, he said, largely backed Trump for the same reasons. The 22-year-old Dolce was among the voters who moved Berks County further into the red by more than 2 percentage points from 2020 — a modest gain that, added to similar movement in practically every county in Pennsylvania, helped flip this swing state back to Republicans. That pattern was repeated across the country, including in every other battleground state called so far, and explains how Trump earned such a decisive victory. In an election long hailed as nail-biter close, Trump won not just by claiming a handful of key ZIP codes, but by increasing his vote share all over, in cities, suburban areas, and rural stretches alike; and by improving his performance with young men and voters of color in particular. Trump’s support grew in states as reliably blue as Massachusetts, and he cut into the Democratic advantage even in strongholds such as New York City and Houston. In dozens of interviews last week in the swing states of Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, and North Carolina, Trump voters described a wide range of reasons — political and personal — why they chose a former president who is a convicted felon and four years ago refused to accept his electoral defeat. Overwhelmingly, they cited concerns about the economy and immigration. Some said they were underwhelmed by his Democratic rival, Vice President Kamala Harris; many were men who voiced concern about her ability to lead or believed the discredited conspiracy theory that she relied on a Bluetooth earpiece during the televised debate against Trump. Advertisement The voices that spoke up for Trump on Tuesday complicate the conception of a MAGA movement that many Democrats had painted as dominated by white men. In Reading, Pa., aging row houses and industrial buildings reflect the city's manufacturing past. The city, where 68.9 percent of residents are Hispanic, represents one of Pennsylvania's most dramatic demographic transformations, evolving from a predominantly white industrial center to the state's most Latino municipality. Erin Clark/Globe Staff Winston Reyes, a staunch Trump supporter, checked out dinner as it cooked on the stove in his Reading home while his wife, Maria, and daughters, Ashley, 3, and Chelsey, 13, joined him in the kitchen. Erin Clark/Globe Staff Winston Reyes, a 49-year old Dominican American man from Reading who has long backed Trump, hailed what he described as significant growth in the Trump coalition this year. “MAGA is a movement. It’s country and family and economy,” he said, sporting the iconic red hat as he prepared for Friday night dinner with his wife and three children. “People like that. And Hispanics, we definitely are about that too.” In an electorate divided along gender lines, it was men who delivered Trump his victory, though not from any one single ethnic or age group. Trump again won white men — his most reliable demographic — by double digits, according to Associated Press data. But Black men of all ages swung toward Trump, too, by 12 percentage points. Young men under 30 broke decisively for Trump by 15 percentage points. And eroding support for Harris among Latino men also helped shift a dozen once-Democratic, majority-Hispanic counties along the Texas border decisively to the right. Advertisement It was not accidental. The Trump operation invested heavily in reaching these constituencies. In downtown Reading, for instance, Republicans opened a field office on the same block as Latino-run restaurants and shops; through a barbershop in town, the campaign offered free haircuts to predominately young Latino men. Hundreds of miles away, in suburban Waukesha County, Wis., 38-year-old Corey Crowder was jubilant about Trump’s sweeping win. “Most Black people grow up thinking they’re supposed to be Democrats,” he said. But he has come to feel that the Democratic Party takes Black voters like him for granted. Once a Barack Obama supporter, Crowder has backed Trump since 2016, because he feels the Republican is better on economic issues. “I voted him in,” the Instacart delivery driver said with a smile as he loaded gallon after gallon of milk into his trunk. Not all of the 74 million Trump voters were diehard Trump supporters. Thomas Pyle, a senior at University of Wisconsin Madison, did not decide to vote for Trump until the Monday before the election, despite leading the campus Republican club. But, ultimately economic considerations overcame his concerns about Trump’s refusal to accept the results of the 2020 election. Pyle said for months the GOP student group worked to increase the party’s share of votes in this liberal city, even though they knew Democrats would win overall. “It’s not about whether Madison is blue or not, it’s about whether Wisconsin is blue or not,” Pyle said. Ultimately, it was that game of margins that boosted Trump across the country. Dane County, home to crunchy Madison, was still bright blue, but shifted slightly toward Trump this year, with Harris underperforming Biden’s margins on campus. Advertisement Other purple and red areas turned redder for the former president this year, too. Many of those voters have been with Trump since the beginning. Steven King patted a cow nicknamed Black Betty at King’s Dairy Farm in Muskego, Wis., in Waukesha County. King said the farm has been in the King family since the 1890s and the family supported Donald Trump because of the economy. Andrew Burke-Stevenson for The Boston Globe Jimmy Johnson puffed a cigarette on his porch in Reedsburg, Wis., in Sauk County. Johnson voted for Donald Trump in the 2024 election. Andrew Burke-Stevenson for The Boston Globe Jimmy Johnson, 64, has voted for Trump in three presidential races now, even as his home in swing-y Sauk County in south central Wisconsin has bounced from Trump to Biden to Trump, mirroring the state as a whole. Like many Trump supporters, Johnson said he believes the 2020 election was rigged, but was confident in the integrity of the vote this time around. He would have been at the Jan. 6 insurrection, he said — if he hadn’t had to babysit his grandchildren that day. When the former baker woke up at 5 a.m. Wednesday to the news that Trump had been elected, he said, “it made the coffee taste better.” But just as important as excitement about Trump was apathy about Harris, some voters said. While votes are still being counted, preliminary totals as of Saturday show Trump’s vote share, 74 million, is about on par with what he earned in 2020. But Harris, so far, is millions of votes shy of the 81 million cast for Biden four years ago, a signal many once-Democratic-inclined voters may have sat the 2024 race out. That was the case for some voters in purple, rural Nash County, N.C., a bellwether corner of the state that has correctly called the presidential race since 2012. Nash in many ways was emblematic of how Democrats tried to win on economic policy: from the sign at the local Amtrak station advertising improvements “funded by President Joe Biden’s bipartisan infrastructure law” to Biden campaigning here last June on bringing back manufacturing jobs through government-funded programs. Advertisement Bruce Harris, a volunteer at the Nash County GOP headquarters, sat outside while supporters returned yard signs last week in Rocky Mount, N.C. Cornell Watson for The Boston Globe But those didn’t factor in for Jonathan West, 41, a cook at a local senior living center who voted for Trump in 2016 and Biden in 2020 but did not cast a ballot this year, he said. As he had his beard trimmed at a barbershop in Rocky Mount just a block from where Trump held a rally before the election, West said he was doubtful whoever was president would make a difference. “The House and Congress, they run everything anyway.” Some new members of the Trump coalition might once have been inclined to support Harris, such as Rose Rivas, a 22-year old stay-at-home mom from Reading. As she was getting ready to play piano for the Friday evening service at Iglesia Evangelica Nueva Vida, a Spanish-language church, Rivas explained, “there was a time where I wanted to become Democratic.” But after doing more research — largely watching political videos on TikTok, Rivas said — she grew disillusioned with Harris and skeptical about specific plans that were perhaps designed to cater to voters like her, such as the Democrat’s pledge of $25,000 in federal downpayment assistance to first-time home buyers. “These are things that you just have to look at like, what is the actions of this person, not just what they’re promising?” Rivas asked. “I know he is a convicted felon. I know he has a history. I get it, but at the end of the day, what he’s here is to be a president, and we as Christians … we’re coming together to pray to God that we believe can make changes in people, right?” Michael Hernandez shared a laugh with his barber Nurye Regins as they discussed politics during a haircut at a downtown Reading barbershop. While both men initially supported Donald Trump's policies, Regins ultimately voted for Kamala Harris after the controversial comments about Puerto Rico at Trump’s recent rally. Erin Clark/Globe Staff While many Trump voters are ambivalent about his criminal record and history of controversies, his campaign’s embrace of provocation as a core value alienated potential supporters. Nurye Regins, a Puerto Rican barber in Reading, is a fan of Trump personally — “he’s gangster,” Regins said. But he could not get past a pro-Trump comic’s anti-Puerto Rican comments at his New York City rally before the election and voted for Harris. “That made a huge difference for me,” he said. In Reading, where many voters have friends or relatives who are undocumented, there’s also fear Trump will make good on his promise to deport every undocumented person in the country. Reyes, the Dominican American Trump supporter, said the former president’s stance “took a lot of vote from Latinos” and argued that if he moderated on the issue as president, “whoever comes after him can grow this Latino base that he already have.” At a dive bar in the tiny Wisconsin city of Lake Mills, 56-year-old Jeff Nachreiner wasn’t quite excited about the election results on Thursday night, even though his candidate had won. In the last two elections, Nachreiner wrote in his wife for president. But after a costly divorce from his onetime candidate of choice, Nachreiner filled in the bubble last week for Trump. “Nobody — nobody — unless you’re criminally insane, wants to pat yourself on the back” for voting for Trump, Nachreiner said as he enjoyed the bar’s weekly $7.75 steak special. Still, he cast his ballot for Trump thinking of “my sons’ future, and my own.” Nachreiner, who is renting his home after his divorce last year, wants lower interest rates so he can buy another house someday. He also wants an end to “inflation rates up the ying-yang,” and to “kids being taught LGBT in schools instead of the American anthem.” Foreign affairs were on his mind, too, he said, and he favors Trump’s isolationist tendencies. “World War I is done. … We’ve got to start taking care of our own family,” Nachreiner said. “You’ve got to stop being a helping hand to so many useless countries that don’t lift a hand to us in return.” Sitting at the emptying bar in front of a string light American flag, Nachreiner lamented the nation’s divisions. “Why can’t weeee be friends?” he sang. “Why can’t we be friends?” Jeff Nachreiner sat at the bar at Sportsman's Pub on the Park in Lake Mills, Wis., in Jefferson County on Thursday. Nachreiner voted for Republican candidate Donald Trump in the 2024 election. Andrew Burke-Stevenson for The Boston Globe Globe correspondent Andrew Burke-Stevenson contributed to this report. Emma Platoff can be reached at emma.platoff@globe.com. Follow her @emmaplatoff. Sam Brodey can be reached at sam.brodey@globe.com. Follow him @sambrodey. Elizabeth Koh can be reached at elizabeth.koh@globe.com. Follow her @elizabethrkoh. Follow Us