Months into her campaign for governor of South Carolina, Rep. Nancy Mace is facing a problem that no amount of national attention has solved: a lack of enthusiasm from Republicans in her own state.
A recent Wall Street Journal report underscores how isolated Mace has become within South Carolina GOP circles. At a Clemson–South Carolina football game in late 2025, where more than two dozen Republican donors, operatives, and party leaders were interviewed, not a single person said they supported her bid. Several declined to comment altogether. Former Mace campaign consultant Austin McCubbin put it bluntly: “Politics is the art of relationships. She has no political relationships whatsoever in South Carolina.” Referring to one of Mace’s own interviews, he added, “Why are you running for governor and telling people you have no friends?”
That dynamic has become more pronounced as Mace has leaned into confrontation as a defining feature of her political identity. In 2025, she elevated her national profile through aggressive anti-trans rhetoric, repeatedly calling herself a “proud transphobe” and positioning herself at the center of Republican culture war fights. While that approach has made her a frequent cable news presence, it has not translated into broader support within South Carolina’s Republican establishment.
Republican insiders quoted in the Wall Street Journal and on CNN describe a candidate whose volatility has alienated allies. One anonymous House Republican told CNN that colleagues are “totally befuddled” by Mace’s behavior, adding, “The general feeling is that there is something unwell about her.” A former senior staffer described watching her conduct shift from “kind of funny” to “devastatingly sad.”
Those concerns sharpened after an October incident at Charleston International Airport, when Mace accused South Carolina Attorney General Alan Wilson of orchestrating a political hit job against her. Wilson denied the claim, calling it “a categorical lie,” and said multiple witnesses described similar behavior. “Is everyone lying and she’s telling the truth?” he asked, later calling Mace “an entitled, spoiled brat.”
Mace has dismissed criticism of her temperament, arguing instead that her combative style reflects conviction. “These fights are worth fighting for,” she said in an August interview, defending her focus on immigration and transgender issues. She has aligned herself closely with Donald Trump’s agenda and openly courted his endorsement, calling him a “kingmaker.” That endorsement has not materialized.
Polling reflects the contradiction at the center of Mace’s campaign. She leads in name recognition but also carries high unfavorability ratings, leaving institutional support thin.
For LGBTQ+ advocates, the trajectory is familiar. Mace’s rise has been fueled by sustained attacks on transgender people, from targeting universities to misgendering colleagues and backing policies that strip away protections. What’s increasingly clear is the same scorched-earth strategy that brought national attention has left her politically isolated at home.
As the governor’s race continues, Mace is confronting a reality she has often dismissed: attention is not the same as trust, and outrage does not build a governing coalition.