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In spite of himself, Trump is motivating the group he seems to hate the most.

New data suggest that Trump's rise is driving more immigrants than ever before to become U.S. citizens.

In spite of himself, Trump is motivating the group he seems to hate the most.

Thanks to a decisive victory in the Indiana primary and the suspension of Ted Cruz's campaign, Donald Trump is pretty likely to secure the Republican nomination for president of the United States.

The online reaction thus far has been... Let's call it "disappointed."



Trump has been spewing hateful rhetoric since the day he announced his campaign.

He's referred to immigrants as "rapists," "criminals," and "killers." He regularly responds to female opposition with sexist, misogynistic attacks. He not only witnessed the unjustifiable violence that punctuated many of his rallies, but he encouraged it.


He's also talked about his hands. Like ... a lot.

But believe it or not, Trump's hate speech has inspired some really positive movement from the group he appears to despise most: immigrants.

Similar to how gun-owners often stockpile weapons and ammunition following a gun-related tragedy — because they're worried gun safety legislation will make guns and ammo harder to buy — Trump's political ascension and his promise to enlist a "deportation force" to exile some 11 million undocumented immigrants has led to an unlikely but significant increase in the number of immigrants applying for citizenship here in the United States.

A May 1, 2016, May Day march. Photo by David McNew/Getty Images

According to the The New York Times, naturalization applications spiked by 14% in the last half of 2015 compared to the same period in 2014. And they're on pace to break records for 2016 as well.

One immigrant, Edgar Ospina, told the Associated Press that the anti-immigrant sentiment being stirred up by Trump's rise was the driving force behind his decision to apply for naturalization.

An owner of a small flooring and kitchen remodeling company, Ospina emigrated from Columbia over 20 years ago and became eligible for citizenship in 1990, but he has only recently decided there is no time left to waste.

A large group waits to take the citizenship oath that will allow them to become U.S. citizens in 2015. Photo by Saul Loeb, AFP, Getty Images.

"Trump is dividing us as a country," Ospina told. "He's so negative about immigrants. We've got to speak up."

Luis Gutiérrez, a 10-term U.S. Representative from Illinois, also took to the public airwaves to encourage immigrants to apply for citizenship so they can vote in November.

"We want to raise our voices because the city of Chicago has an incredibly proud tradition of being inclusive, of bringing people together," Gutierrez said during a protest last month. "And Mr. Trump has the tradition of division, of hatred, of bigotry, of prejudice. We are asking all of Chicago to stand up."

Another unforeseen silver lining to Trump's campaign of hate? The reimagining of the Republican party.

Trump might be the Republican party's nominee for this year's political race, but he couldn't be further from what many members of the party consider to be the true embodiment of Republican ideals.

Image via Saul Loeb, AFP, Getty Images.

He waffles often on his stances, appearing to support gay marriage, calling out North Carolina's ridiculous HB2 bill, and supporting both universal health care and higher taxes for the wealthy. In fact, he's even gone on record in the past as saying, "In many cases, I probably identify more as a Democrat.”

As a result, more and more Americans are being forced to rethink what the Republican party means to them, and some people are even deregistering from the party.


Trump has been such a divisive figure among Republicans that he even led to the dissolution of the Friends of Abe, a "secret society" of conservative Hollywood elites.

All of this just goes to show that hate can still inspire good, even when that hate comes from the darkest of sources.

Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images

Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
True

Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

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We know that mammals feed their young with milk from their own bodies, and we know that whales are mammals. But the logistics of how some whales make breastfeeding happen has been a bit of a mystery for scientists. Such has been the case with sperm whales.

Sperm whales are uniquely shaped, with humongous, block-shaped heads that house the largest brains in the animal world. Like other cetaceans, sperm whale babies rely on their mother's milk for sustenance in their first year or two. And also like other cetaceans, a sperm whale mama's nipple is inverted—it doesn't stick out from her body like many mammals, but rather is hidden inside a mammary slit.

Keep Reading Show less
Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
True

Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

Keep Reading Show less