When Caroline joined Turning Point USA as a teenager, she thought she’d found her place in the world. But as the years went on, cracks appeared. She began to notice the organization’s reliance on manufactured outrage, its obsession with loyalty over truth, and the way it preyed on young people’s hunger for belonging.
By 2017, she quietly stepped away. Today, Caroline–an attorney and accomplished politico– lives in the Texas Panhandle—one of the reddest regions in the country—where she now works as communications director on a Democratic congressional campaign. She also shares her story online, helping others who have questioned their upbringing, their faith, or their politics.
In this conversation with Informed.org Editor-in-Chief Chloe Wellington-Hunt, Caroline reflects on her political journey, the culture inside Turning Point, and why critical thinking is the most powerful antidote. To learn more about Caroline’s story in her own words, find her on Instagram and TikTok @babyblue.tx.
Chloe:
I came across your TikTok a while ago and thought your story was powerful. It reminded me of parts of my own political journey. In a time when there isn’t much nuance in politics, your story really stands out.
Caroline:
Thank you. It’s been a while since I was directly involved with Turning Point—I left in 2017—but I did experience the inner workings. That perspective gives me empathy for people who are still susceptible to indoctrination or have been groomed by organizations that prey on young people’s need for acceptance. That’s a key strategy they use.
Chloe:
So, let’s start at the beginning. How did you get involved with Turning Point, and what made you step away?
Caroline:
I got involved in 2014. I was already working with my local Republican party and was quickly plugged in. At the time, I was searching for identity and belonging. I was a junior in high school, and politics felt like a natural fit. My church was a politically active Baptist megachurch in Houston. My grandparents were RNC delegates. It wasn’t really a question—I was going to be Republican.
When I stepped into that role, I immediately got positive validation. As a young woman in Republican politics, people wanted to keep me involved. I got opportunities—dinners, introductions, networking. Then I went to an event where Charlie Kirk spoke. He pitched Turning Point, which was still very new. The focus then was fundraising and grassroots growth. Looking back, they were strategically using young people as props to impress donors.
At first, I thought it was exciting. I went to a donor dinner, and the next thing I knew, I was invited to CPAC—the Republican Super Bowl. I was 17, meeting people I’d seen on TV. That was the hook: the sense of importance, the belonging, the validation. And in exchange, all they asked was loyalty.
Chloe:
That sounds a lot like what people say about Trump’s circle—that loyalty mattered more than competence. Did you see that culture at Turning Point?
Caroline:
Absolutely. Loyalty was everything. If you questioned the organization, you risked being cast out. That’s not unique to Turning Point, but it’s especially true in conservative organizations. The unspoken rule was: if you doubt us, you’re the enemy.
Chloe:
And at what point did you start questioning things?
Caroline:
I interned at headquarters, wrote media pieces, did the campus tabling—so I saw the propaganda machine up close. At first, I believed in it. But over time, I started noticing the way stories were manufactured: taking something small and blowing it up for outrage, leaning into bias, pushing fear, because fear gets clicks and donations.
In college, studying political science, I was exposed to different perspectives. By 2016, with Trump’s rise, I started asking myself: is this really what I believe? I realized this wasn’t about helping people or small government—it was about consolidating power through chaos. I didn’t have a dramatic exit; I just “quiet quit” to preserve my credibility. But by then, I knew I couldn’t stay.
Chloe:
How did it feel stepping away, especially when politics had given you belonging?
Caroline:
It was terrifying. My whole identity had been built around being “the young conservative woman.” I worried that if I left, I wouldn’t belong anywhere. But ultimately, I realized belonging based on conformity wasn’t real belonging. It was conditional. And the second I started questioning, I knew I wasn’t truly accepted—I was just a tool. That realization gave me the courage to walk away.
Chloe:
Now you’re working in Democratic politics. What does that look like?
Caroline:
I live in the Panhandle—the reddest of red. Trump carried my district by nearly 30 points. I’m communications director on a congressional campaign, which we just launched. It’s challenging, but I feel hopeful.
At the same time, I’ve been sharing my story on TikTok and Instagram. Speaking out publicly is new for me, but the response has been powerful. People write saying they’ve gone through the same thing—drawn in by the promise of belonging, then questioning it later. That’s why I keep telling my story.
Chloe:
How has your conservative background shaped your work on the left?
Caroline:
It’s been invaluable. Many lifelong liberals don’t understand how the right thinks or which words set off alarm bells. I can spot dog whistles. I also know how to frame things in “freedom” language: freedom from poverty, freedom from medical bankruptcy, freedom from food insecurity. Conservatives value freedom deeply; they’ve just been sold a distorted version of it.
Being able to speak both languages helps me connect across divides. At our campaign launch, a Republican newspaper editor approached me. She said she was confused about Trump and felt out of place. We had an honest conversation about shared values—wanting a future not stolen by corruption or inequality. That common ground is critical.
Chloe:
That’s encouraging, especially when so many young people are searching for belonging. What advice would you give to students who, like you, grew up steeped in one ideology but are now encountering new perspectives?
Caroline:
I’d tell them: you deserve to think for yourself. Don’t just adopt the political persona handed to you. Both sides will try to push you into a mold, but you have a brain—use it.
When I deconstructed my politics and my faith, I reminded myself: if my beliefs are truly strong, they should withstand my doubts. If your convictions crumble under questioning, maybe they weren’t solid to begin with. That process can be uncomfortable, even painful, but it leads to growth.
At the end of the day, critical thinking is the best armor against manipulation—whether it’s from the right, the left, or anywhere in between.
*Editor’s note: This story was set to publish two weeks before the tragic passing of Turning Point Founder and CEO Charlie Kirk. In her interview with us, Caroline spoke briefly about having Kirk as a boss, discussing how he was a kind, approachable, and helpful organizational leader. Rest in peace, Charlie.
The Redemption Article That Needed Redemption! Wow …
Ah, the “redemption” article — that familiar genre where a repentant conservative confesses her political sins to earn applause from polite society. This time it’s Caroline Stout, who once found meaning in Turning Point USA before discovering the real path to virtue: swapping red groupthink for blue groupthink.
Her tale drips with the usual enlightenment clichés — “manufactured outrage,” “indoctrination,” “conditional belonging” — as though the left doesn’t run the same emotional pyramid scheme with better PR. At least Turning Point channels rage into PowerPoints. The other side torches cities and calls it “mostly peaceful protest.”
But redemption stories never come with mirrors, only spotlights. Their outrage is “authentic.” Their mobs are “movements.” Their loyalty tests are “accountability.” Same playbook — just with NPR tote bags instead of MAGA hats.
So yes, Caroline escaped the “manipulative right.” Bravo. Now she’s found sanctuary in a new congregation where the hymns are blue, the dogma is still holy, and the heretics still get burned — just on Twitter instead of talk radio.
The only thing truly redeemed here? Her career prospects in Austin.