Back in 2013, Marco Rubio became a punch line. Delivering the Republican response to President Obama’s State of the Union address, he lunged awkwardly off-camera and mid-speech to grab a small bottle of water.
Keep up with the latest in LGBTQ+ news and politics. Sign up for The Advocate's email newsletter.
In that moment, he was odd, sweaty, and actually quite human. That sip of water became internet lore. The New Yorker called it “a televised .GIF of political vulnerability,” and it was. Rubio, then a fresh-faced U.S. senator from Florida with presidential ambitions, came across not as sinister or extreme but nervous. Harmless. Maybe even likable.
A dozen years later, the man who once struggled to sip water with grace now gulps down gallons of something far more toxic that is Donald Trump’s Kool-Aid.
When Trump selected Rubio to serve as secretary of State in his second term, it was heralded as a rare moment of sanity. Rubio, the press reminded us, had been considered one of the “nice guys” of the Senate.
In 2015, Bloomberg chronicled his affable charm and bipartisan friendships. Even as his own presidential campaign faltered, he remained a figure many Democrats respected, or at least didn’t loathe. His future looked really bright. It seemed everyone had good things to say about Rubio.
Even as recently as January, he was liked. His confirmation to lead the State Department was unanimous. In today’s broken Washington, that’s nearly a miracle. The word “unanimous” is never uttered. MSNBC praised the pick as a solid one.
To many, Rubio would be the “adult in the room,” the stabilizing force in a chaotic administration. In official Washington, he’d serve as a moral compass, someone who’d whisper no when Trump raged yes.
Instead, he’s become one of Trump’s most loyal enforcers. Well, that’s too kind; henchmen sounds more appropriate. He’s vindictive, petty, and partisan. Senate Democrats who once admired Rubio now openly regret confirming him. according to a recent Axios report, If you’re a political junkie, you don’t have enough fingers on your hands to count the number of times pundits and pols continue to say, "He's not the man I thought he was.”
All that being said, it’s pretty obvious Rubio’s transformation was predictable. When will Washington learn? Get close to Trump, and you lose. You lose your dignity. You lose your independence. Credibility. Spine. You also lose your name, and eventually, your future.
Rubio didn’t enter the State Department. He entered the Trump Meat Grinder.
If history teaches us anything, it’s that Trump burns through people the way a toddler tears through tissue paper. The Brookings Institution tracked the first-term chaos: the resignations, the firings, the humiliations. From Scaramucci to Tillerson, Sessions to Mattis, none emerged unscathed. They were either cast aside or clung too long, or in the case of the “Mooch,” were hung out to dry after only two weeks, only to be tarnished by association.
Remember Mike Pompeo? He was Trump’s secretary of State during the first go-round. Once a rising GOP star with presidential potential, Pompeo was such a sycophant that people joked he traveled the globe as a Trump whisperer, not a diplomat.
And yet, when Trump returned to power, his loyalty wasn’t enough. Trump revoked Pompeo’s security clearance in a fit of retribution, effectively ending his career. As CNN reported in January, Trump labeled him “disloyal,” a death sentence in MAGA-land.
That’s the thing with Trump, loyalty to him is a one-way street, ending in a cul-de-sac of irrelevance, embarrassment, and humiliation.
Now Rubio is barreling toward the same dead end. The formerly affable senator who once spoke movingly about the American dream is now a snarling mouthpiece for Trump’s most reckless foreign policy whims. For example, he’s silent on condemning tariffs, sits quietly when Trump thrashes allies in the Oval Office, and finds his voice only when he threatens to revoke all Chinese student visas..
Why does this happen? What transforms a mild-mannered conservative into a political tyrant?
Is it power? Is it cowardice? Is it the fantasy that loyalty to Trump might yield the presidency one day? Is it all the gold in the Oval Office ,where he sees his reflection at every turn?
Rubio may well think he’s next in line. He should think again.
The truth is, when Trump’s second term collapses under the weight of its own corruption and cruelty, as it inevitably will, Rubio will not be hailed as a statesman. He’ll be remembered as an accomplice. A footnote. A cautionary tale. Or worse, to borrow a phrase from Trump, a “scumbag” and “loser.”
His former Senate colleagues are turning against him. Most certainly, his more moderate constituents in Florida are divided, confused, and even ashamed. And more personally to him, what about his family? He has four children. How will he justify his behavior and his association with Trump to them someday?
And so, like the cult followers of Jim Jones, Rubio sips steadily from Trump’s poisoned vats, mistaking it for some thirst-quenching political relevance. But no one survives drinking Trump’s Kool-Aid. No one.
We used to laugh about Rubio’s water sipping. It was awkward, yes, but there was some humility to it. Today, there's nothing humble about what he’s become. He’s not awkward. He’s dangerous.
The man who once struggled to sip water with dignity now drowns in delusion.
Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ community and its allies. Visit Advocate.com/submit to learn more about submission guidelines. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists, and editors, and do not directly represent the views of The Advocate or our parent company, equalpride.