It was a warm, sunny day in Central Virginia this March when Gov. Glenn Youngkin and his wife, First Lady of Virginia Suzanne Youngkin, made a celebratory trip to the Colonial Downs racetrack in New Kent, Virginia. The pair were there for a ribbon-cutting ceremony of sorts as the annual running of the Virginia Derby became a premier event in the qualification series that feeds the Kentucky Derby. The Youngkins, and especially Suzanne, who manages a small equine facility in Northern Virginia, had lobbied hard to establish the Virginia Derby as a stepping-stone to Kentucky, and the duo arrived in their spring best. 

The crowd that day gathered around the governor and his wife as they made their way to the box seats near the race track. One by one, people of all shapes and sizes waited patiently for a picture with the couple and the Youngkins happily obliged. It was a big day for the governor and his wife, and yet another substantive victory for the culture and economy of Virginia under Youngkin’s stewardship. But lurking in the long shadows that spring day was a scandal that would threaten to undo Youngkin’s legacy and perhaps torpedo his ambitions on the national scene. 

Youngkin is the type of guy you’d expect to be a Republican governor in Virginia during the modern era. The former co-CEO of the Carlyle Group, a global investment firm, Youngkin’s businessman aura played well to the suburban mom types between the Richmond and Washington, DC corridor who act as the key demographic decision-makers in statewide Virginia elections. Youngkin looked the part too: well-pressed suits and his gregarious mannerisms. His remarkable height helped solidify him, if only visually, as the resolute option in an election that was held during Covid’s most tumultuous season. 

The Republicans won that election on a seemingly paradoxical message of both change and stability. Then-Gov. Ralph Northam, a Democrat, had done his side no favors when his loose language on the topic of abortion left many Virginians concerned about the rights of newly-born babies. There were also heavy concerns then that a Democratic governor would push forward with vaccine and mask mandates. And perhaps most decisive in hindsight, Terry McCaullife, the Democratic candidate, told parents that their opinions were not welcome in what would become, ostensibly, his schools. 

The glove fit perfectly for Youngkin and his rag-tag team of MAGA misfits. The businessman would keep the Acela corridor close and his undercard—a black immigrant Marine who wields semi-automatic weapons and a young, Hispanic lawmaker—would reassure the MAGA coalition that this wasn’t business as usual in the Grand Old Party. The odd but effective ticket worked in 2021 as Virginia voters elected Youngkin, Lt. Gov. Winsome Earle-Sears, and Attorney General Jason Miyares. 

It was all red that November. A stunning Republican victory at the height of the Covid pandemonium and one that proved a merging of new MAGA and old GOP could yield impressive results. By September of 2024, Youngkin’s approval number crested 57 percent, capturing one of his highest polling marks at a time when then-candidate Donald Trump was neck and neck with Kamala Harris. Among independents, Youngkin’s number was even higher at 62 percent. There was widespread speculation that Youngkin was on Trump’s VP shortlist with some suggestions that Youngkin might even eye the Oval Office himself in due time. But last September now seems long ago. Youngkin is suddenly facing the greatest test of his four years in charge of Virginia: an intra-party political war that has erupted over the last month and threatens to sully his image as a polished dealmaker who can attract the support of the MAGA right. 

The scandal that has come to stain Youngkin’s reputation, as scandals often do, appeared at the worst time for Republicans in Virginia. Earle-Sears, now the Republican gubernatorial candidate, was already well behind her Democratic rival Abigail Spanberger when the bad news dropped. John Reid, the Republican candidate for lieutenant governor, a former talk show host who is well-liked by the MAGA coalition, was privately asked to exit the race by Youngkin after opposition research found a blog allegedly connected to Reid which had published images of naked men. Reid denies the report and has suggested someone else, using his instagram handle, posted nude photos of “other men and other models” in an attempt to sabotage his campaign.

The private conversation, which was meant to stay between Youngkin and Reid, did not. Reid immediately took to Twitter, where he posted a five-minute diatribe against Youngkin and the state GOP. In the video, Reid states that he is a gay man, that he has watched pornography, and that he has participated in one-night stands. Soon after, images of Reid at a drag show began circulating across the internet. The former talk show host defended his presence at a drag show and vehemently protested what he claimed were attempts to strongarm him out of the race. “Drag is not for kids, but really who cares what adults watch or what they do in a restaurant or bar or club,” Reid said. 

Reid then accused Youngkin’s political strategist, Matt Moran, of attempting to extort him if Reid refused to drop out of the race. Moran, head of Youngkin’s PAC, Spirit of Virginia, stepped down from his post amid the fallout. “That extortion and smear attempt was ridiculous and I refused to back down and I decided not to tell the press or the general public about it,” Reid responded defiantly. 

And then something rather interesting happened: The conservative base in Virginia, long stereotyped as luddite fundamentalists who despise the LGTBQ-ification of America, rallied to Reid’s side. “It’s five to one,” said John Fredericks, the stalwart conservative talk show host whose broadcast is heard daily on Virginia airwaves. “[Voters] want Reid to stay in the race. They think the establishment is trying to screw him. Who cares about penises on Tumblr? No one cares.”

Fredericks’s frank admission speaks to the radical remaking of the conservative coalition under Trump, both in Virginia and throughout the country. The same political arm that has bitterly fought the left on progressive social issues is now engaged in defending a socially progressive gay man who is taunting the GOP establishment. Though a marriage of strange contradictions, Reid’s support from the MAGA base shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who has closely followed the arc of the Boomer Right this last decade. Trump, thoroughly criticized as being anti-LGBTQ by his critics, is largely misunderstood by the people who dislike him the most. The 47th president has repeatedly made clear his support for LGBTQ persons during both his administrations; his base, outside voices in the dissident sphere, have mostly agreed with Trump. 

“Trump broke the evangelical stuff,” a campaign operative in Richmond, Virginia told Puck News. “The base has managed to look past purity tests and say, Hey, we can elect a real son of a bitch and get stuff done! There is purity, and there is winning. And they are both drugs, but one of them is a lot more addictive.”

As polling continues to suggest a blue wave in Virginia this November, the Reid scandal engulfing GOP politics in Virginia has turned a likely disappointing election season into a defining conversation about the new politics of the American right. Assumptions about the makeup of the MAGA coalition are falling on deaf ears as the most staunch conservative voices in the region have circled the wagons for Reid and launched incisive attacks on the Youngkin “establishment” in response to his attempts to dislodge the first gay person to run for statewide office.

Driving on the outskirts of Richmond this week, the support for Reid could not be more pronounced. Next to yard signs that still stand for Trump also stand Reid signs. What you won't see, however, are signs for Earle-Sears, who leads the ticket and was uncomfortably silent throughout the Reid scandal. Earle-Sears, pressured to speak, finally posted what can only be characterized as soft support for Reid along with a bible quote.

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“It’s [Reid’s] race, and his decision alone to move forward,” Earle-Sears stated.

Ironically, whether she knew it or not, Earle-Sears was noting the reality of the 2025 Virginia governor’s race: Spanberger appears to be a shoo-in less than six months out from election day and Earle-Sears is all but an afterthought. All eyes are firmly on Reid, the scandal-plagued talk show host whom MAGA has made their champion. What an odd set of circumstances it would be if Reid could somehow, against the wishes of the GOP establishment, find a narrow path to victory this fall. With his hardest days and nights behind him, now only the campaign trail awaits. 

And Youngkin? How will he be remembered when this is all said and done? As the mild-tempered statesman who steered Virginia through one of its most chaotic eras or as a Benedict Arnold who attempted to overthrow the will of his people after once heeding their call? All signs likely point to the latter. It’s one that would keep the 58-year-old from pursuing higher office in the time of MAGA domination. In the age of anti-establishment politics, Youngkin is suddenly on the outside looking in. His legacy is likely to reflect that in years to come.