“I’m an Alaska Native, I would trust another Alaska Native over who’s been in office,” Terra Abbott said as she waited for friends to finish casting their vote. 

In rural Alaska day to day issues, like fishing and hunting rights, or the exorbitant costs of extremely rural living, aren’t understood by many in the Lower 48—the US mainland. 

Amanda Van Vliet’s family just bought a woodstove, she explained while picketing across the street from one of two gas stations in town. The price of unleaded fuel is now $7.39. 

“We paid like $10,000 for diesel to heat our house last year,” Van Vliet said. “And now we have a bunch of foster kids and that cost is going up.

Guadalupe Callahan, a recent college graduate, grew up in Nome, hunting, fishing and frolicking in Alaska’s natural playground. This year, her and her friends are voting for candidates who don’t see the state as “a land sack of soil and oil.” 

“I’ve grown up here my entire life, I fish all the time, I go out hunting all the time and I think the only way to keep doing that is if we preserve the land we’re on,” Callahan said. 

“People always say ‘Oh Alaska that’s a red state’ but I don’t know why there’s that idea that you are what you are,” Callahan said. “If Texas can be blue, sure enough, Alaska can too.” 

Anna Lionas, University of Alaska, Fairbanks 

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS—At the Boston College Democrats midterm watch party, every election had a sound. When Amy Acton won the governor’s race in Ohio, the AI-generated, memeified, song, “We are Charlie Kirk” played over the speakers. When Chris Pappas won a Senate seat in nearby New Hampshire, air horns blared. When Angie Nixon faltered in Florida, a fart noise followed.

At a school that students say “isn’t political,” memes like this are how the midterms wormed their way into public discourse.

Boston College was among the lowest ranked schools in the Foundation for Individual Rights and Free Expression “free speech” rankings due to administrative censorship of protests and rampant self-censorship among students. So, what does the campus speech climate really feel like? 

Junior Connor Moquin put it this way: “It’s like, if you’re at the Thanksgiving dinner table with all your relatives, you’re not gonna bring up politics in front of your Trump uncle and then start a huge fight, right?”  Moquin said. “It’s the vibe that I get coming to campus.”

So even in a room like this one, where attendees were decked out in blue and most people shared political views, humor became the way to sidestep controversial conversations and cut through students’ broader alienation from politics.

“They have to keep people engaged in, like, a culture of—or at least a projection of—apathy,” freshman Finn Kerns said.

The use of humor was accompanied by a broader push to appeal to a wide range of students. Freddy Osborne, president of BC College Democrats, said that he has tried to steer away from activism related to specific issues, like Gaza. Instead, he thinks focusing on democratic participation and political discussions more broadly will help widen the tent, even to those who don’t consider themselves Democrats.

“There are people I know who, like, probably didn’t vote, or probably didn’t vote for a Democrat who are here right now,” Osborne said. “I really wish BC had more of these spaces.”

As for the fart noises, those are just to make the news more entertaining for the people in the room. “Well, politics is crazy now, right?
It’s really stressful,” Aalok Bhattacharya said. “And so, I think the more joy we can bring to politics, the better.”

When James Talarico flipped the Texas Senate, the air horns blared again as Bhattacharya added his own complementary commentary.

“It’s confirmed, God has six genders now.” 

Genevieve Morrison, Boston College

NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT—The campus wasn’t fully awake when the alarm went off—out of Sterling Memorial Library came students, librarians, and the families of hopeful applicants, spilling onto the grassy quadrangle. 

Then the white fire trucks—two of them—ripped through High Street from opposite directions and idled there, shoulder to shoulder, before the main branch of the third-largest academic library in North America. In went the firefighters—to evacuate people, to keep at least one campus tour from glimpsing the nave, and, if it could be managed, to save the four million books.

No. No fire. False alarm!

The firefighters left in quick succession. And the tour group was already onto the next Gothic attraction.

It was Tuesday, and there were signs that it was Tuesday. Monterey Jack quesadillas. Beef tacos! Some students knew it was Election Day. Their professors, it appeared, did not—there were still classes. It was the midterms, or what a particularly funny person, feeling optimistic, might call Liberation Day.

By nightfall, there were watch parties and 30 members of the Yale Political Union’s Progressive Party, gathered in Saybrook College’s TV Room. 

I met with the union to ask them about the possibility of another false alarm—was this a blue wave? Or a blue mirage?

Savan Parikh, the president of the Yale Political Union and a member of the Progressive Party, went into the night more pessimistic than the polls, “because I felt so betrayed by the polls” the last few cycles. Had he feared that their predictions were a false alarm?

“Certainly. Certainly.”

And now?

“Better. Yeah, better. A lot better.”

Then NBC called Texas for Talarico—72 percent of voters under 30, the exit polls were saying! The room erupted—AAAAAHHHH!

“What I’m seeing tonight is a lot of screaming,” said Massimo Mejia, chair of the Yale Political Union’s Progressive Party. “Some of our people have already lost their voice.”

Mejia cast his first vote in 2024 and remembers “such a crushing lack of hope.” But Tuesday night, he said, felt like “something new.”

There was no second false alarm Tuesday. By the time results from all over came in, the campus, like much of the country, was engulfed in a real blaze.

“It’s a kind of fire,” Mejia said, “that we haven’t seen on the left for a long time.”

Zachary Clifton, Yale University

ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN—At 2:15 PM, I rounded the corner to the campus polling site and was greeted by a swarm of students and local news stations gathered on the adjacent road. 

Cars struggled to pass through the street while students and reporters tried to get a sense of what was happening. Soon it became clear: at the center of the commotion was the man himself, US Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed. Students rushed to get a photo with him while cameras rolled and local stations clamored for interviews. University of Michigan sophomore Kamya Jariwala was one of the many students in the crowd.

“I have never seen that many people so excited to be involved in politics,” Jariwala said. “There was a long line just to see him. Just to get a glimpse of him.”

El-Sayed’s connection to the University of Michigan as an alumnus has resonated deeply with students. “It’s very important to have politicians who are in touch with the student body—elected officials who have roots in the state that they’re running in so they understand how to represent their electorate,” Jariwala said.

Beyond the bustle surrounding El-Sayed, Election Day was marked by long lines stretching outside polling locations, volunteers encouraging students to cast their ballots, and voters preparing to wait hours for their turn. When I returned to a polling site later in the day, lines continued to wrap around buildings, with some students reporting estimated wait times of up to two hours.

Despite the lengthy waits, students such as sophomore Alexa Sohn remained committed to casting their ballots in person on Election Day. “Everyone’s on the same page that we should all vote, especially because this is a really big time for our generation,” Sohn said. “That’s why I waited until Election Day to vote, so I could experience the best atmosphere possible.”

Sarayu Bongale, The University of Michigan

HOUSTON, TEXAS—Thunder cracked over Sewall Hall at Rice University in Houston all Tuesday afternoon. I watched students line up to vote between classes, some waiting nearly half an hour, others taking shelter from the rain. The storm came in bursts. The voters in a steady flow.

Shem Brown had brought his notes. On one side of the page was material for class. On the other, a list of candidates he wanted to remember in the voting booth.

Brown, a Rice University senior, had read voter guides and followed the campaigns closely. He was confident about James Talarico’s prospects, less so about Gina Hinojosa’s. He had seen plenty of advertising for the former and far less for the latter.

Hinojosa was seeking to become the first Democrat elected governor of Texas since Ann Richards in 1990. “I really want Gina Hinojosa to win,” Brown said. “But, I really think that Talarico is gonna win,” he continued, knocking on a wooden bench outside the polling station. “I just have so much faith in his campaign.”

“Texas is ready for this kind of change,” Brown averred.

Not everyone shared his enthusiasm.

Stefano Marchisio, an 18-year-old, had voted for Abbott, Paxton, and Republicans down the ballot. He had done little preparation, relying partly on the judgment of his parents and mentors, “the wisest people I know.”

He wanted Abbott to remain in power, he said, “so that I have no doubts nor questions about the future government.”

Alissa Ferguson, 22, had carefully researched choices. She voted Democratic at the national level and wanted Abbott, Paxton, and Dan Patrick out of office.

For her, the stakes ranged from her rights as a woman to the future of her high school.

“My high school in far West Texas is at risk of closure and will likely shutter its doors at the end of this year,” she said. She blamed state education policies and cuts to public school funding. The alternative of private education meant little where she grew up.

“There aren’t any private schools, and even if there were, they aren’t affordable; the vast majority of the people in this area barely get by.”

She had come to vote wearing a Texas flag shirt. Behind her, a sign directed voters toward the polls in English, Spanish, Vietnamese, and Chinese.

Brown, meanwhile, was preparing to graduate. He wanted to stay in Houston but wasn’t sure he could.

“I love Texas so much,” he said, “and a lot of the time it feels like Texas does not love me back.”

Brown had been in middle school during the 2016 election. In 2024 with Trump’s election, he felt “really blindsided.” This time, he had allowed himself to believe something different might happen.

“I’m gonna lose a lot of faith in humanity if this does not work out,” he told me.

By 10:17 PM, the rain had passed and the blue surge had swept across Texas. Talarico defeated Paxton, becoming the first Democrat elected to the US Senate from Texas since 1988. Hinojosa unseated Abbott and Democrats also led races for lieutenant governor, attorney general, and railroad commissioner.

After 2016, Beto O’Rourke’s 2018 defeat, which voters brought up all day, and 2024, young Texans like Brown had learned to hedge their hopes. For a trained, cynical Gen Z Texan, Tuesday night was its own version of 2006—the year of an unusually competitive, five-way gubernatorial election. They were feeling their very own version of millennial optimism.

Lajward Zahra, Rice University

PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND—Students packed the lobby of Friedman Hall election night as a Ben & Jerry’s stand began handing out free scoops. With two floors of games, pizza, analysis, and midterm-themed crossword puzzles, the Brown Political Union’s election party kicked into high gear around 8 PM when the Associated Press called the Massachusetts Senate race for the incumbent Democrat. 

“Ed Markey, baby!” a student shouted from Friedman 102, the lecture hall hosting the event’s main watch party.

Students scavenged for makeshift seats in aisles and on windowsills as a lanky boy in a donkey onesie flipped the stream between the Kornacki Cam and ABC. The donkey in charge, a sophomore named Indy Singh, gushed over the turnout, both in the room and across the country. “Tonight shows that this big orange guy in office isn’t invincible,” he said.

In addition to relentless cheers for upsets in Texas, Kansas, and South Carolina, the room showed school spirit for Hannah Pingree and Rob Sand, two Brown alumni who triumphed in their gubernatorial races in Maine and Iowa. With Brown alum Matt Meyer already in office in Delaware, their wins will leave Brown tied with Harvard for the most alumni serving as governor come January. 

Down the hall, Professor of Public Policy and Political Science Eric Patashnik fielded live updates from the audience as he lectured on election analysis. Also on the ballot Tuesday night was one of Patashnik’s former students, David Morales, the Democratic Socialist state representative who won decisively after beating Providence Mayor Brett Smiley in a contentious Democratic primary. 

“He brings a lot of passion. He’s an amazing communicator. And he’s a part of a new generation that wants to be involved in government. So I think that’s terrific,” Patashnik said.

Meanwhile, the state’s Democratic party was having a ball of its own downtown. What it lacked in free ice cream, it made up for at the open bar. 

Hundreds crowded the 17th floor of the Hilton Providence and cheered as Morales, who at 28 will be the youngest mayor in the city’s history, took the stage. Among the many students working the room, I met Brady McCarthy, a sophomore at Roger Williams University who wants to go into politics. 

“Tonight gives me a lot of hope,” he said, “especially knowing that I’m in a state that is gonna give me a lot of opportunities by having such a large Democratic majority.”

Paul Hudes, Brown University

BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA—In the first November rain, hundreds of voters lined up outside of UC Berkeley’s Eshleman Hall to cast their ballots.

From the outdoor screening of the midterm race on Memorial Glade to the watch party inside the Institute of Governmental Studies library, morale was high. Half-eaten pizzas on paper plates and t-shirts adorned with “I Voted” stickers were proof that young voters were reluctant to experience democracy alone.

Berkeley, of course, had little reason to doubt its own Democratic political inclinations. But the rest of the country was another matter. Nobody could stop talking about the notorious Ramaswamy campaign ad, or the racist attacks on El-Sayed. Young Californians had turned their eyes outward, running headlong into a collective, jittery anxiety.

“I am just looking forward to seeing humanity in this country tonight,” commented a graduate student who sat at the forefront of the IGS library, repeatedly refreshing the real-time vote tallies with evident unease. 

The evening began with a guided meditation, as well as a reminder of the late John Lewis’s call to “be hopeful, be optimistic” in this “struggle of a lifetime.” Attendees closed their eyes to drink in the words.

Xavier Becerra won the less politically risky race and became the state’s first elected Latino governor. The crowd cheered more out of comfort than elation. But California’s Proposition 40, the billionaire wealth tax that had enjoyed considerable attention on social media, provoked more angst.

In an informal poll conducted by the host, few attendees expressed confidence that California could effectively “tax the rich.” Some recalled signing the petition months before on our very own Sproul Plaza to put Proposition 40 on the ballot. Despite the shared sentiment that “nobody needs a billion,” one Berkeley freshman questioned the proposition’s ambiguous definition of assets and whether it could affect middle-class families. Another raised concerns about the campaign waged by California’s tech titans and mega-rich to sink the bill.

At 6:42 PM, Democrats flipped the house. As the blue wave washed over Texas, Ohio, and South Carolina, cheers erupted across the room. By the time Texas flipped blue, some attendees headed for the exit, seemingly satisfied that the night’s work was done.

The blue wave reflects a national desire to perform a check on power. But, amid the euphoria and complacency that it may breed, Californian voters must ask themselves: how do we confront concentrated wealth and its ability to change political tides in our backyard? 

Dorothy Huang, Berkeley University

EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND—I walk up an alleyway that stinks of piss, before being bathed in green lights that make me wonder if I’m about to be dissected by aliens. 

“Great,” I think. “I’m here!”

Dropkick Murphy’s is an Irish pub and dance club that’s as authentically Irish as a union jack. This is where the University of Edinburgh’s Democrats’ Overseas society is hosting its election night party. 

Upstairs it’s American dance night, and beautiful young women dressed as farm animals dance to Ella Langley with guys in plastic cowboy hats. Downstairs there’s an election party, and lacy tops turn into sensible sweaters and collared shirts. “Last time, when Trump won, it was Chappell Roan night,” a local reporter for The Herald also covering the party informs me. 

The partygoers clap as the BBC announces that polls have closed. Five people on television sit around a crescent table in a blindingly bright studio and discuss the night reasonably. Compared to FOX, it’s almost academic. 

As I sit, a girl in a red flannel and cowboy hat descends from the dance floor, trips down the stairs, and tramples a young woman watching the midterms results. The cowgirl is drunk and mumbles an apology before darting out.

Forbes, an 18-year-old working class Scot with a serious mullet and a beige flannel over-shirt is here with his English friend. 

Why have they come? “It’s something to do,” his English mate says. 

“The Dems will win, right?” Forbes asks. 

“What makes you say that?” I reply. 

“All my favorite comedy podcasts switched up from the Trump band wagon,” Forbes says. “I just think it makes sense as well because the world’s pretty fucked right now. And that Iran shit was insane, lads.”

I ask him what comes to mind when he thinks of America. 

“It’s gotta be one of the most beautiful countries in the world, ’cause it’s so big, it’s got everything, you know? I know you can’t really anymore, but I’d like to think I could move over there one day and have a cool life,” he says. 

The BBC projects Maine will go to the Democrats. The room absolutely erupts. 

“I would like to move to the south,” Forbes says. “Like, where was True Detective filmed? Louisiana?  Yeah. I’d love to see Louisiana. It looks so cool over there. Those willow trees and shit.”

The BBC projects Jon Ossoff will win Georgia after five percent of the vote comes in. People cheer. Less loudly than Maine, but they still cheer. 

“I like how they’re saying it so decisively after only five percent,” a girl behind me comments. 

The guy sitting next to the young woman leans in so close to her face I’m sure she could tell me a great deal about his teeth. “Welcome to American democracy!”

Henry Fernandez, University of Edinburgh (Study Abroad via Cornell University)

KANSAS CITY, KANSAS—Hundreds of Kansas Democrats huddled in the Marriott Ballroom, eagerly anticipating a potentially historic midterm election. A deep red state like Kansas usually doesn’t have this much optimism, yet something felt different.

The Adam Hamilton election watch party in Kansas City personified his campaign—attracting the same motley voting coalition that propelled him into power: Democrats, Republicans, independents, young, old, wealthy, working class, you name it. 

As The Guardian noted, “Hamilton, who branded himself as a centrist with the slogan, leading from the middle’, joined several other ‘prairie populists’ this year to win over Republican strongholds by leaning on populist messaging and vowing to stand up to corruption and corporate interests.”

The energy in the ballroom was similar to a major sporting event. There were hardly any empty tables or chairs. Every time a Democrat took a lead or projected a win, the crowd cheered as loudly as they could. 

Then Hamilton won. And spectators erupted into applause—chanting “U-S-A” and “Adam” over and over.

But Hamilton, with all reason to gloat after upsetting a deep-red Senate seat that hadn’t been held by a Democrat since 1932, did not. The longtime pastor kept to his humble, Christian values. During his victory speech, he evoked scripture—among them, the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The story goes: a traveler is beaten by robbers and left for dead. Two religious men pass him and do not help. But, then the Samaritan, from an enemy group, treats his wounds and helps him recover. This allusion tied back to Hamilton’s campaign and his promise of going across the aisle to work for all Kansans.

Hamilton did not mention his opponent, incumbent Senator Roger Marshall, at any point in the evening. He was sick of the mudslinging of electoral politics. “You can get a whole lot done if you don’t care who gets the credit,” Hamilton said. This message fired up the crowd once more.

Kansans walked out of the ballroom with a belief that things would get better. It was once impossible to imagine a Democrat in the Senate during our lifetimes. But, state Democrats, after witnessing a two-term Democratic governor and now an incoming blue senator, are choosing to think differently. Kansans just made history, and they aren’t planning on stopping.

Madden Rausch, The University of Kansas

ITHACA, NEW YORK—On the first day of early voting in Ithaca, Cornell Votes President Erik Lapidus was eighth in line at the Crash Fire Rescue Center when the ballot scanner stopped working.

The first voter received an error. A technician tried to fix it, and poll workers began directing ballots into an emergency ballot box instead. By 9:28 AM, Lapidus said, nearly everyone was using it. But when his turn came, he flipped his ballot over and tried the scanner again.

“When I scanned my ballot a second time, it went in perfectly well,” Lapidus said.

As rumors began circulating online that ballots placed in the emergency box would not count, Lapidus pushed back, confirming that those ballots would still be counted, even if not until after Election Day polls closed.

For Lapidus, correcting misinformation was only one part of a semester spent trying to get Cornell students to vote. Cornell Votes began by distributing registration forms in every student dorm. The organization helped nearly 500 students register this semester, compared with just over 300 during the 2024 presidential election, and saw more than four times as many absentee-ballot forms taken.

On Election Day, members were at Robert Purcell Community Center, Cornell’s on-campus polling place, from 5 AM to 9 PM, helping students navigate the voting process. By then, the challenge was no longer getting students to show up—it was getting them to wait in a 90-minute line.

“There could definitely be more polling places because there is more than one community center on campus to avoid the long wait,” Cornell student Osiel Faez told me while waiting. “But at the same time, this means that there is a really good turnout.”

By night, voting lines gave way to an election watch party hosted by the Cornell Democrats.

“Especially with two years of not too much hope, it’s nice to have a place as isolated as Ithaca to come together and be hopeful,” Cornell Democrats President Nash Wickremeratne said.

For Political Director Alex Blue-Baron, from Texas, the hope was for a celebratory night—and for her home state to flip blue.

“It makes me super happy to see how many students are politically and civically engaged,” Blue-Baron said.

Jeannine Chiang, Cornell University

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK—Sounds of Brazil, located in Hudson Square, hosted a midterm election watch party titled “The Revolution Will Be Televised.” Across the room, people of all ages sat surrounded by six televisions displaying polling percentages. Attendees watched the screens with excited smiles as everyone waited for the clock to strike 9 PM. 

“We need to take the Senate, take the House. We are in very bad shape,” Larry Gold, owner of Sounds of Brazil, said to the audience as we awaited results. He emphasized how New York City developed a strong sense of community throughout the summer, from the Knicks’ games to the World Cup, and he said his goal for this event was to help New Yorkers come together again. 

This seemed to resonate. Attendees clapped in unison as the six television screens showed a new state turning blue; little by little, Democrats took over the majority of the House of Representatives, and the Senate and cheers quickly erupted in the room.

Ana Agudelo, Hunter College

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA—The Regent Theater in Los Angeles was packed at 8 PM on election night. The Democratic Socialists of America LA were hosting their watch party. People were feeling “cautiously optimistic.” 

The old theater sits right in the heart of Downtown and was filled with Angelenos of all ages talking, eating, and walking around as they watched the tight race between current LA mayor Karen Bass and DSA-endorsed City Councilmember Nithya Raman unfold. 

For many young LA residents, Raman was an obvious choice. “Driving around Downtown makes me so sad,” said Nikki Kobrick, who recently moved to LA after graduating from college. “And I’m thinking, this is not what the downtown of one of the greatest cities in the world should look like.” 

For many young DSA members, choosing to support Raman ultimately came down to her pledge to fix the city. Twenty-three-year-old William Prince is a LA native and grew up frequently visiting Downtown. He first joined DSA in 2021, when Raman won her city council race, and has since grown excited about her policies on transportation and housing. “I want a city that loves me back,” Prince said. “For Nithya to say just so unabashedly, ‘I love LA, but LA doesn’t love us back, and I want it to,’ was very powerful.” 

Supporters of Raman seemed confident that she would win the mayoral race—but slightly less so in what that would mean for the future of LA. Several watch party attendees acknowledged that they were politically to the left of Raman, and that they voted for her with the intention of pushing her office further while using this election as a stepping stone to further their future goals. 

Kobrick said she’s looking ahead to 2028 and hopes that a socialist mayor in LA will set the stage for Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to win the presidential election. 

As the watch party stretched late into the night, voters remained hopeful that a new socialist mayor would soon transform LA. As of this writing, Raman holds a narrow lead over Bass.

Sarah Soroosh Moghadam, University of Southern California

BLOOMINGTON, INDIANA—At a local bar in Bloomington, Indiana, in the heart of a reliably-red state, local Democrats buzzed, invigorated by the potential “blue wave.” To much of the country, Indiana may seem irrelevant, a flyover state and Republican stronghold. But to the college students and recent graduates who made up some of the crowd, the midterms were an opportunity to prove that Indiana can once again be a competitive state politically.

One group of young people—Ben Baranko, 19; Finn Nowacki, 21; Izzy Frieze, 22; and Jackson Lythgoe, 19—called out vote percentages in key races in different counties across the state, incredulous and heartened by the early momentum. They laughed in disbelief, thrilled, before someone chimed in with the sobering reminder that it was still early. Things could change.

That person was right, it was still early. But the early blue trickle was, in fact, a harbinger of the blue tsunami to come. Before the night was over, Democrats would flip several seats for State House, breaking the Republican supermajority that had held steady for 14 years, and Beau Bayh would win secretary of state, the first Democrat in statewide office since 2012.

At another table, 19-year-old Talan Buell, wearing a cross necklace, toggled between 10 different computer tabs while listening to Steve Kornacki’s election commentary through his left AirPod.

A speaker for the county Democratic party got on the microphone and started speaking to the crowd. “Prices are too damn high,” he said and, without looking up from his computer, Buell called out “Amen!”

CJ Miller, 23, might have been the most expressive of the bunch, banging on the table with excitement and gesturing wildly when he heard promising results for races in other states. “That means AOC is viable!” he crowed when he heard Democratic Socialist Angie Nixon in Florida was polling well. He’s thinking ahead to potential Democratic presidential nominees for 2028.

Back in Indiana, a Bayh win for secretary of state, Miller said, sets an example for how Democrats can succeed in deep-red areas. They need to “define themselves,” he says, and avoid letting Republicans control the conversation.

Despite attempts to convince voters that people in the Midwest and on the coasts are wildly different, Miller thinks the wave of blue he sees sweeping across the country is evidence that voters across the country want the same things. 

“We’re all frustrated,” he said. “We’re all broke and we’re all trying to figure out why.”

Samantha Camire, University of Indiana Bloomington