The Subversive Genius of Melania Trump

Melania Trump stands by her nude modeling work. 

There’s a video that makes this abundantly clear, posted last week to Melania’s X account. “Why do I stand by my nude modeling work?” she asks in voiceover, then goes on to answer her own question by discussing the glorious artistic history of the human form, as images flash by of other famous nudes. Michelangelo’s David. John Collier’s Lady Godiva. Cézanne’s bathers. A smorgasbord of flesh. 

Melania’s nude photos do not appear in this video, but remember, they exist. Once upon a time she was very hot, and very naked, and somewhere, there’s a photograph. And if you have a problem with that? Well. That’s on you.

Of course, nobody has a problem with this. Nobody was even talking about this until Melania brought it up! But such is the subversive genius of the former First Lady. 

Even those of us who once had mixed feelings about Melania must grudgingly admit, at this point, that the woman is the GOAT of DGAF. Indeed, until she popped up on social media, carefully enunciating the words nude modeling work with the tongue-clicking precision of an ASMR influencer, you might well have forgotten that she even existed—which is quite a feat, considering that her husband is the Republican presidential candidate in an election that’s just six weeks away, and in which the other nominees’ spouses are being paraded around like prize turkeys at the county fair. Even Doug Emhoff, who despite a fairly sordid marital history that includes at least one documented incident of nanny impregnation, has been thrust by the Harris campaign into the highly public role of Wife Guy Extraordinaire.

While Emhoff’s X bio proudly boasts: Devoted dad. Proud husband to @KamalaHarris. Advocate for justice and equality. Official account is @SecondGentleman, Melania’s X bio simply states: The official profile for Melania Trump.

Donald? Donald who?

Lately, Melania has been promoting her memoir, due out October 8, on her X account, which does not contain a single retweet of her husband nor his campaign affiliates. The photos on her profile are modeling shots in which she appears alone. Even her memoir—which her husband apparently hasn’t read—is titled, simply, MELANIA. (The “memoir edition” has a black cover with white type, and costs $40—$75 signed! The collector’s edition has a white cover with black type, is printed “on premium art paper with a special custom white binding, is adorned with black foil, blocking, and a ribbon marker,” and comes with “a digital collectible”—retailing for just $150.)

Meanwhile, Melania’s absence from the campaign trail has been so continuous that we now struggle to recall the last time we saw her. The RNC convention in July? The felony conviction in May? Do you remember? She remains as elusive as Bigfoot (who has also been frequently photographed naked, it should be noted). 

But then, Melania’s political presence has always been thus—a profile that’s more like a silhouette, a paper cutout representing the shadow of a person instead of the woman herself. The attention-whoring of her husband made her reticence during his first campaign only that much more striking by comparison until it became the stuff of legend. She was a breed of political spouse nobody had ever seen before: one who not only didn’t want to campaign but almost transparently didn’t want her husband to win, and then didn’t want any part of life at the White House once he did. 

Her obvious disgruntlement made for fertile ground in which to plant all manner of conspiracy theories: that she had been replaced by a body double, that she was blinking pleas for help in Morse code as she sat behind Trump at various public events, even that she was some kind of sleeper agent—the bathtub assassin to her husband’s Marat. 

But as fun as those theories might have been, the truth—revealed as much in her absence as her actions—is far more interesting. No, Melania isn’t on Team Trump, but she’s not on the other team either. Whose team is she on? Team Melania, of course. 

This was why her sole achievement as First Lady was a half-hearted anti-bullying campaign with the absurd tagline, “Be Best”—presumably chosen for its ability to let Melania fulfill her duties while expending as little effort or oxygen as possible, like a teen grunting monosyllabic responses to his parents’ questions about how school was today. This was why, tasked with decorating the White House for Christmas, she lined the East Wing with a forest of unadorned, blood-red trees, like a Seussian Satan’s allée. 

Certainly, this was why she did not think twice about visiting the border while wearing a jacket with the phrase, I REALLY DON’T CARE, DO U? emblazoned on the back. Any other First Lady would have insisted on a sloganless jacket—or, if none was available, at least turned this one inside out—because any other First Lady would not leave the house without first considering the political ramifications of her outfit. 

Not Melania, though: She’s not thinking about the impact of her fashion choices on the nation. 

Because to do that would require thinking about Donald Trump, and if there was ever a time when Melania’s husband was a factor in her decision-making, that time is over.

I don’t imagine we’ll see much of Melania between now and the election, and not just because she and the Trump campaign appear not to be on speaking terms. She has a memoir to promote. She has things to do, and places to be, and those places are not standing mute at the side of the bloviating septuagenarian she’s married to. Even her memoir is a stand-alone event: A press release from July claims the book will offer “an intimate portrait of a woman who has lived an extraordinary life.”

There is no mention of her husband, or even her son. No plea to vote Republican this fall. Melania has done what so many of us yearn to, but cannot: She has transcended the political, a very beautiful (and, remember, very nude) phoenix rising from the ashes of her strange, brief tenure as the First Lady Who Wasn’t There. And what she’s doing now is all she’s ever done: Whatever she wants.

Kat Rosenfield is a columnist at The Free Press. Read her piece, “No, Kamala Harris Is Not ‘Brat’ ” and follow her on X @katrosenfield.

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