Heading to a rally for President-elect Donald Trump's inauguration Sunday, Bellevue developer and Republican fundraiser Hossein Khorram exuded excitement. Sure, bitter cold weather forced ceremonies into indoor venues too small for the crowds that arrived, among them more than 100 Washingtonians.

But Khorram, who estimates he raised $600,000 for the inauguration committee, secured VIP access. Walking the streets of D.C., where thousands congregated wearing Make America Great Again hats and shirts, and where lines stretched more than a mile long to get into a Trump rally at Capitol One Arena, he said: "Joy was in the air."

He added that attending a reception for incoming Cabinet members Saturday night "felt like being with my own family."

Trump's inauguration finds Washington state, like the rest of the country, divided. It's less evident in a state slanted heavily toward Democrats, many of whom fear the second regime of a man they see as having a far right, autocratic vision.

Yet, nearly 40% of the state's voters supported Trump in the November election — some of them wildly enthusiastic about aggressive changes the populist iconoclast has promised, including mass deportations, government downsizing and curtailment of diversity, equity and inclusion efforts.

For Washingtonians going to Trump's inauguration, shelling out for jacked up airfares and $700-plus-a-night hotel rooms, then facing an Arctic blast, the trip offers something locally elusive: an opportunity to celebrate a conservative victory.

Mike Jones, a Bainbridge Island horse farmer bringing his long johns as he headed to the airport Friday, said he feels disenfranchised in Washington, where there is "largely one-party rule."

Asked why he wanted to go to the inauguration, Jones said: "It's kind of along the same lines of why I wear my Trump gear around." When he puts on his Trump hat or rides in his truck with a Trump flag, he's flying his political "colors," as he puts it, sending a message that not all people on Bainbridge Island think alike.

Not all who booked tickets for the inauguration think alike either. Kennewick's Sandi Youngquist said she and husband Larry Youngquist — strong supporters of outgoing vice president and Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris — wanted to better understand Trump's appeal by listening to him and his supporters.

"We needed to put our feelings aside to try to be a little bit more open-minded," said Sandi Youngquist, who like her husband used to work in technology for the Pacific Northwest National Laboratory. Both are now retired.

The inauguration marks an extraordinary chapter in American history, those wanting to see it up close agreed. As Jones pointed out, only one previous president failed to win reelection but later returned to office for a second term: Grover Cleveland.

Khorram, who organized a contingent of 20 Washington donors to attend the inauguration, marveled at another highly unusual aspect of the 47th presidential swearing-in. Less than a year ago, Trump was looking at possible prison time after being convicted of felonies related to falsifying business records in a sex scandal. He instead received a no-penalty sentence this month.

"It's the greatest political comeback in U.S. history," said Khorram, a Bellevue real estate developer.

Tired of being called 'deplorables'

There's a sense of vindication among conservative Washingtonians who headed for the inauguration, a feeling they are in the majority nationwide even though a minority at home.

That majority, as some see it, is reasserting itself after being put down by cultural and intellectual elites. Jones recalled Trump's 2016 inaugural speech, when he said: "The forgotten men and women of our country will be forgotten no longer."

"That's part of what a lot of Americans have felt, and why they joined the Trump movement," Jones said. "They've been called 'deplorables.' They've been called every name in the book. And we're just patriotic Americans who love our country and want to see our country doing great like it used to."

By that, the Bainbridge Island farmer means a country that is economically strong and a "force for good in the world," reminiscent of former President Ronald Reagan's vision of a "shining city upon a hill."

As a University of Washington student in the 1980s, Jones was inspired by Reagan's optimism and the California politician's tough stance toward the former Soviet Union, which he branded an "evil empire." Jones believes Trump shares Reagan's commitment to "peace through strength."

Jones also sees Trump, like Reagan, energizing disaffected young people.

As a whole, voters 18 to 29 favored Harris in November, with 52% voting for the former vice president. But Trump, whose masculine rhetoric on so-called "bro" podcasts exacerbated the gender divide, won 56% of young men.

That's not to say Trump lacks female fans. Kerry French, a Kent GOP activist who traveled to D.C. with her mom, said Trump's defiant reaction to the Sept. 15 attempt on his life amped up her support for the Republican standard-bearer.

"He got up and put his fist in the sky and he said, fight, fight, fight. That's when I fell in love with the man," French said.

"Sometimes, I think he trolls people," she continued. Trump has called former Vice President Mike Pence "delusional," categorized the press as an "enemy of the people," and labeled Jack Smith, the former federal prosecutor who led the criminal case against Trump accusing him of improperly retaining classified documents, "deranged," "evil and sick."

"But what means the most to me," Kerry said of Trump, "is I know he loves America. He wants to put America first."

Like Jones, Kerry in her youth was inspired by Reagan. "He made it cool to be patriotic again," Kerry said, crediting him with her 20-year career in the Navy. She served as a chaplain's assistant.

Trump, she said, is "Reagan with brass knuckles."

Over the weekend, Kerry's spirits dipped as it became clear tickets for her and her mom to watch Trump's swearing in would be ceremonial only. Mother and daughter would have to stand in line to try for a seat at Capitol One Arena, set up for public viewing. A car would pick them up from the military base where they were staying at 4:30 a.m.

"It's pretty disappointing to spend all that money, all that time," she said, only to potentially get locked out of the main event.

At the end of Trump's first term, he signed an executive order with a stated purpose of combating "offensive and anti-American race and sex stereotyping. " Subsequently revoked by successor Joe Biden, the order was part of a conservative backlash to diversity, equity and inclusion programs.

As Trump takes office, activists on the left fear backsliding into a more racist, sexist and homophobic time, while those on the right characterize DEI programs as overreaching and divisive.

Khorram, the GOP fundraiser, falls into the latter camp. He hopes Trump will use federal funding as leverage to clamp down on such programs. Khorram emigrated from Iran with his family when he was 17. Speaking earlier this winter, he traced his disdain for DEI to what he observed in his birth country.

Before the 1979 revolution that established Iran as a rigid Islamic theocracy, people of different religions lived peacefully together, Khorram said. "I didn't really know who was Muslim, who was Christian, who was a Jew or who was Baha'i. It didn't really matter, OK, 'till the Islamists came."

That was the start, he said, of Iran's "identity politics." Authorities categorized people according to their religion as they dictated the supremacy of Islam. While the analogy to the U.S. DEI programs may not exactly fit — they espouse dismantling racial and other kinds of supremacy — Khorram sees their focus on race and gender as creating similar fissures.

Despite their Muslim heritage, Khorram's family faced persecution. His father, a factory owner seen as aligning with the prerevolutionary regime, was imprisoned and threatened repeatedly with execution. A bribe extracted by extortion, according to Khorram, paved the way for his dad's release. The elder Khorram wound up running a successful Oriental rug store in Bellevue.

Once in the U.S., it seemed to Khorram that Republicans have been tougher than Democrats in their stance toward relations with Iran. He now hopes Trump will bring uncompromising positions to the world's conflicts.

Concerns about immigrants, veterans

As debate swirls around Trump's plan for widespread deportations, Khorram takes pains to point out he's an immigrant. In fact, he said immigrants are the "spirit of the GOP," at least in King County. "We bring life. We bring energy," he said.

Kory Hahn, who until recently served as vice-chair of the King County Republican Party, indicated the situation may be changing. Regrettably, in the eyes of Hahn, who moved to the U.S. from Korea when he was 12, the county party's leadership is less diverse than it used to be after a reorganization last month.

But he agrees with Khorram that local Republican events are drawing more immigrants than in the past. Trump has attracted Vietnamese Americans repelled by any hint of the communist politics they fled, for instance. His wooing of religious constituencies has also played well among some Hispanic immigrants, among others.

Khorram doesn't want immigrants to be treated as victims, as he feels Democrats sometimes do. He also makes a sharp distinction between those here legally and illegally.

Trump, he hopes, will immediately close the border, ramp up deportations with an initial focus on those with criminal convictions and stop state funding for programs helping undocumented immigrants. Washington, for instance, offers health insurance to low-income immigrants who don't qualify for Medicaid because of their immigration status.

Felix Vargas, a decorated Vietnam War veteran and retired foreign service officer who voted for Harris, also will be watching Trump's moves on immigration closely, but from a different perspective. "In Washington, we have a lot of undocumented people who work in agriculture," said the Pasco resident.

"They're fine upstanding people who respect the laws," he said. "They're not taking anybody's jobs away. These are jobs that really no one wants, except people who are desperate for work." Vargas worries not only about the impact of widespread deportations on them but on the local economy as well.

He especially doesn't want to see recipients of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program deported. DACA recipients came to the U.S. without authorization as children and have obtained renewable work permits though the Obama-era initiative.

"They are Americans in every sense of the word," Vargas said. "They serve in our military, they teach in our schools."

Vargas also went to D.C. to press the case for veteran benefits. He fears they might be cut in the Trump administration's zeal for government downsizing.

If the Department of Veterans Affairs' bureaucracy, that's one thing, he said. But he'd oppose reducing veteran pensions or cutting programs for disabled veterans and those with PTSD and other mental health conditions.

As he planned his trip, he said he was "in listening mode."

What he heard before heading out Sunday to beat sub-freezing temperatures left him, he said, "mildly optimistic," at least in terms of another area of interest, foreign affairs.

Vargas talked with a State Department career officer professing confidence in Trump's picks for the head and deputy head of the department, former Florida Sen. Marco Rubio and former ambassador to Mexico Christopher Landau. "They know how the Department of State works. They know what the issues are," Vargas said.

Still, he said he felt a little depressed upon seeing Saturday's People's March — not because of its opposition to Trump's agenda but because it revealed "this country is as divided as ever."

The Youngquists arranged to go to the inauguration the day Biden withdrew from the presidential race and Harris announced her candidacy. It would be a historic moment, one quite different from the eventual outcome, if a Black, Indian American woman won, they thought.

When she did not, they were shocked, and they asked each other: Should we still go?

"We talked for two minutes," Larry Youngquist recalled. "Yeah, we have to go," he said they resolved, seeking to make sense of what just happened.

They've been active in both major political parties at different points in their lives. Sandi Youngquist once worked in Democratic offices and campaigned for former President Barack Obama. Larry Youngquist, admiring widely respected moderate Republicans like former Washington Secretary of State Sam Reed, served for a time as a GOP precinct committee officer.

Now, said Larry Youngquist, "our values are more on the progressive side."

The couple doesn't know what to expect from Trump. "He says one thing one day, another thing another day," Sandi Youngquist said.

For the inauguration, they had an exit strategy in case things got ugly, as they did during the Jan. 6, 2021, storming of the Capitol. They planned to keep on the outskirts of the crowd and wear sensible shoes. So if necessary, said Sandi Youngquist, "we can run."

The shift indoors mooted that plan. They said Sunday they intend to watch the inauguration on TV in their hotel room.

They still mingled with Trump supporters at their hotel. "We have found people welcoming, calm, friendly, super nice," said Sandi Youngquist. That didn't surprise them.

What did, the couple said, was a deeply "ingrained" belief in Trump they found — almost cultlike, in the Youngquists' eyes. For instance, one person they talked to credited Trump alone with the ceasefire in Gaza, discounting Biden's efforts.

Others said they would pay as much as $10,000 to get into an event where they could catch a glimpse of Trump.

The Youngquists listened and kept their political affiliation to themselves.

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