Unhinged: An Insider's Account of the Trump White House

by Omarosa Manigault Newman

loyalty to him is an absolute and unyielding necessity, akin to followers’ devotion to a cult leader.

The Donald Trump of 2018 is not the same man he was in 2003. When I met him, many of our beliefs were aligned. He identified with Democrats and supported commonsense gun control, like banning assault weapons; legalizing marijuana; universal health care; and even a tax hike on the wealthy. He thought Hillary Clinton was a “great” senator and donated money to her campaigns and at least $100,000 to the Clinton Foundation. Between then and his run for the White House, he changed his party affiliation several times, landing on Republican.

My junior high and high school years were defined by competition and performance. I played volleyball for coach Paul Oakes. I was on the debate team and chess team with Jocelyn Dabney and on the track team with Henrietta Williams. And also in the marching band with six of my cousins.

I watched as his people denied, distracted, and deflected the allegations. And then, when that didn’t work, they attacked and vilified his investigators. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would see the same tactics twenty years later from a different man sitting in the Oval office.

“Omarosa, politicians are just human. You have to separate their good works from their personal flaws.”

Everyone in DC was talking about it. The show was going to be produced by Mark Burnett, the man behind Survivor, a true cultural phenomenon.

“Just Omarosa!” I delivered the line with precision and sass.

I read Trump’s The Art of the Deal and The Art of the Comeback several times. I read every Trump magazine profile and interview. I watched videos of his TV interviews. The winner would be the person who understood Trump’s business style, his negotiation style, his machismo, his boldness, his brashness.

Since my strategy was to emulate Trump, when they shot a promo of me and asked, “Do you think you’ll win?” I said, “Of course! I’m going to destroy the competition!” My transformation into the lady version of Trump was well under way.

The question was, could I win the show without being the actual winner?

He saw the value in drama, aesthetics, conflict and theatrics, and in having a personal brand. The reason he often referred to himself in the third person was to reinforce the name of his brand. I started to do it as well.

The Apprentice was a branding opportunity for Trump, and nearly every task was self-promotional.

For example, whenever there was a disagreement or an argument, his eyes lit up. He loved conflict, chaos, and confusion; he loved seeing people argue or fight.

His energy was high and his focus sharp. He engaged on an elevated level and had a full grasp of the rules and parameters of each task. He knew each of our names and performance histories, show by show. He spoke with a wide-ranging vocabulary, made eye contact, and sat still. He analyzed our performance and arguments on the fly.

The Donald Trump of 2003 was as smart and shrewd as he claimed to be.

Trump told the TV Guide staffer how attractive she was and smiled at her in a way that could not be misinterpreted. It was the first time I’d seen this kind of behavior from him, but it wouldn’t be the last. Still, I chose to ignore it. His personal life was not my business. The TV Guide woman acted like she was flattered.

That loss, and another two in 2005 and 2006, and then failing to earn a nomination again, infuriates him to this day.

I’d seen him at events that Melania did not attend—his birthday parties, fund-raisers at Mar-a-Lago, golf tournaments—and he behaved like a dog off the leash.

would be safe to assume that there were many others.

At that taping, Trump met Playmate Karen McDougal. A photo exists of Karen, Ivanka, Melania, and Donald posing together with some other Bunnies, the craziest family snapshot in history.

What kind of prime-time TV show would allow their launch party to take place at the Playboy Mansion? Who could get away with that? Only Donald Trump, because only he would think to do it or want to do it, and no one would dare say no to him.

Trump’s first wife, Ivana, has said many times that he doesn’t relate to children and barely interacted with Don Jr., Ivanka, and Eric until they were grown.

Donald said, “I’ve known a lot of Playmates of the year . . .” to which Tiffany Fallon responds, “I’m sure you have.”

Candidate Gene Simmons of KISS, a close friend of Donald’s, was the most disgusting misogynist I had ever met. On day one, he walked right up to another candidate, Carol Alt, a model and former Playboy cover girl, talked revoltingly about his famously elongated tongue, and then stuck it into her mouth. She gagged in front of me.

I believe he covets his daughter.

(Ivanka, by the way, has the worst potty mouth, which is such a contrast to her completely poised, sophisticated presentation.)

He turned to Don Jr. and said, “You’ve got to get ass like that. You got to get some ass like that.” Carol just sat there, Ivanka-like, and took it. I remember being disgusted, thinking, Donald, what are you talking about? Your son is married. His wife is pregnant.

During boardroom outtakes, Donald talked about Obama often. He hated him. He never explained why, but now I believe it was because Obama was black.

The Ultimate Merger was a dating show, an African American version of The Bachelorette with an Apprentice twist. Men would compete for my affections and I’d eliminate one each week.

When the show was projected to be a hit, Donald changed the name from The Ultimate Merger to Donald J. Trump Presents The Ultimate Merger. Putting his name on it didn’t seem like a great fit for an all-black TV network, but I didn’t say a word.

Trump took it personally, that the nation chose Obama over him, even though he wasn’t running.

Was that just more opposition research, too? Just another example of what you had to do to compete?

And so ultimately you did not blame Lil Jon or Meat Loaf, you fired Gary Busey, and these are the kinds of decisions that would keep me up at night.” I saw the expression on Donald Trump’s face. He was livid.

It was in that moment, in that room, that Donald Trump made the decision, not only that he would run for president in 2016, but also that he would take his revenge on Obama’s humiliating him in front of all those influential people.

Trump could, against every odd there was, become president, the only item on his to-do list would be to erase the legacy of Barack Obama by undoing his policies. And it sounds shallow, it sounds stupid, it sounds harmful, but that’s just the reality from my perspective, and I had a very unique view as this unfolded.

exchange for a settlement with American Media, Inc., the parent company of the National Enquirer, they would give me the high-profile job and title of West Coast Editor.

The similarities between that deal and the one I was offered after my White House departure—in that case, my silence in exchange for a job—cannot be denied.

In hindsight, I think that Trump was experimenting and testing the gullibility of the voting public.

One part of me knew that Donald only did things that served his own agenda. He wanted me on his show, and he would exploit my grief to do

Burnett had been in the British military, where he’d learned tactics like creating conflict to divide the enemy and conquer them. I’d been involved in the franchise from the very beginning,

It’s easy to see his pettiness now so clearly. I see the little man behind the curtain. But for all those years, I forgave him his insecurities. It made me feel a sense of compassion for him, which only increased the ferocity of my loyalty.

As I thought at the time, he is racial, though, in that he uses race and racial relations to manipulate people.

I always found Hope to be very nice, capable, sensitive, and out of her depth.

Kentucky senator Rand Paul dropped out on February 3, two days after his dismal performance in Iowa, and eventually endorsed Donald Trump, whom he had called “a delusional narcissist and an orange-faced windbag” during the campaign.

Trump said that his describing Bush as “low energy” was a “one day kill.”

I was flabbergasted. Had Donald just referenced his penis onstage during a political debate? My hopes of a sober performance from Donald came crashing down.

I focused my mind and energies on short-term Trump problems, which allowed me to avoid thinking about my own long-term Trump problem of having given him the benefit of the doubt for more than a decade, despite having many reasons not to.

called our number one campaign strategy “whataboutism.” In all of our talking-point memos and emails, we were instructed to bring up her emails. No matter what a reporter asked us, we pivoted to that. It was the only thing we had. At that point, we lacked a platform, plans, big ideas about foreign or domestic policy. All we had was Trump’s bluster, the MAGA slogan, and Hillary’s emails.

I got a bad feeling about Manafort. He was the opposite of what we’d been campaigning for. We’d been rallying against special interests and Washington insiders; Manafort had worked for everyone in the establishment including Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and Bob Dole.

He’s addicted to it because he’s a narcissist, and he revels in his many million followers. The likes and retweets feed his ego.