“I can no longer in good conscience endorse this person for president. It is some of the most abhorrent and offensive comments that you can possibly imagine. My wife and I, we have a 15-year-old daughter, and if I can’t look her in the eye and tell her these things, I can’t endorse this person.”

Then-Republican congressman Jason Chaffetz said that on October 7, 2016, after a 2005 Access Hollywood recording surfaced in which then-59-year-old Donald Trump discussed attempting to sleep with a married woman and using his fame and status to grab women by the genitals.

Just 19 days later, on October 26, Chaffetz tweeted “I will not defend or endorse @realDonaldTrump, but I am voting for him.”

When someone decides that a man who made “the most abhorrent and offensive comments that you can possibly make” about women was worthy of his vote, what message is he sending to a 15-year-old girl? Or, just as importantly, to a 15-year-old boy?

These questions have been at the front of my mind as I watch even formerly Trump-skeptical Republicans go all-in — not just excusing Trump, but openly aligning themselves with him.

Somehow, even after the last four years, it still surprises me.

I’ve long been aware that, as a limited government conservative, the Democrats don’t represent me. For four years, I’ve faced the possibility that as a #NeverTrumper (and, increasingly, as a limited government conservative), the Republicans might not represent me either.

You’d think Trump’s 90 percent approval rating among Republicans would convince me I’m an outlier. But when I read about women and millennials fleeing the Republican party, and about registered Republicans voting for Democrats, I wonder if his approval ratings are high simply because the party is growing smaller, shedding anyone but Trump’s loyal base. I question if I’m truly an outlier, or if the vocal Trump-opponents-turned-proponents on social media just make me think I am.

I know there are other conservative women like me, even if I don’t know how many. So where do conservative women like me go? Who can we look up to?

In some ways, I’m used to feeling out of step, because Republican women consistently face grief for their party affiliation. Some on the left claim Republican women just listen to the men in their lives rather than think for themselves. Meanwhile, women’s magazines like Marie Claire often act as though pro-life automatically means anti-women and the only people who oppose abortion are men who want to control women’s bodies. And Republican women are often erased by pop culture and media. After so many years I quickly notice the exclusion, such as when recently scrolling a Bustle list of nine books about life for women on the campaign trail, none of which were by Republican or conservative women.

And because of their views, Republican women are occasionally the targets of sexist attacks from people who claim to be feminists. The inconsistency is stark. Many who lean left seem to find sexist rhetoric acceptable when directed at Republican women, although they would rightly criticize such rhetoric if directed at Democrats. Further inconsistencies abound. For example, Hillary Clinton is held up as a champion of women despite her attempts to discredit women who accused her husband of sexual misconduct and her failures to protect women on her own campaign from predators.

I know that the left does not represent me or my values. But what happens when you don’t fit into one of the right’s preferred molds either?

I’ve written before about the complications of identifying as a feminist while conservative. Even beyond the right’s troubling support for Trump — despite his poor character, lack of respect for our institutions, and disregard of our Constitution — it seems many on the right are determined not to acknowledge the challenges women face. They seem to believe that living with these issues is somehow a source of pride and a better choice than calling them out and trying to reduce or eliminate them.

And for a variety of reasons, including differing approaches to identity politics, Republicans haven’t made the same effort as Democrats when it comes to electing women. As a result, of the 126 women who make up the 538 members of Congress, only 21 are Republicans.

So Republican women have fewer role models than Democratic women (or than men in either party). The list of American women in conservatism is so lacking that Ivanka Trump appears on its Wikipedia page.

Having so few Republican women role models makes it all the more upsetting when the list grows smaller, as it has for me in recent weeks after stunts by former U.N. ambassador Nikki Haley and current New York congresswoman Elise Stefanik.

I have supported, defended, and praised both Haley and Stefanik, including during Trump’s administration. From removing the Confederate flag from South Carolina’s statehouse grounds to standing for America’s principles at the United Nations, even if it meant standing alone, Haley provided multiple reasons to believe she would act morally and courageously. And I appreciated Elise Stefanik’s unwillingness to surrender when trying to help women win their primaries. Republican leadership disagreed with her, but she persevered. Both women balanced the tough, complicated line of being Republicans at a time when Donald Trump is the head of the party.

Now they seem unrecognizable.

Once the adults in the room, now they sound so much like Donald Trump that it’d be unsurprising to learn they’d hired his former communications staffers. It’s not just the juvenile nicknames; all of a sudden both women are apparently ignorant of the Constitution and congressional rules, and they’re going out of their way to tie themselves to Trump.

Nikki Haley recently asked “why do we have a bunch of people in Congress making this decision [regarding impeachment]?” But she knows perfectly well that the “bunch of people in Congress” were elected by Americans to represent them and that the Constitution explicitly gives Congress this power. Furthermore, she complimented Trump’s foreign policy, despite the president’s insistence on carrying out unnecessary and damaging trade wars, pardoning war criminals, alienating allies, cozying up to the dictator of North Korea, and abandoning the Kurds, not to mention his inexplicable attachment to Russia’s president. Haley also called the president “truthful” and misrepresented Trump’s phone call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky.

And Elise Stefanik knew the rules of impeachment hearings when she complained she was being unfairly silenced — she wasn’t — because the House had passed the rules resolution just a few weeks before. But she assumed her audience wouldn’t know, and so she used that to dishonestly argue that she was silenced because she’s a woman and a Republican. This came after she missed six of the 14 closed-door witness depositions and asked a total of five questions in the eight she did attend.

It’s true that the reaction would have probably been different had it been a Republican man interrupting a Democrat woman because the woman was breaking the rules. Stefanik’s situation is very similar, though not identical, to Elizabeth Warren’s “nevertheless, she persisted” moment. In fact, I would have cheered Stefanik on if she had simply pointed out the difference in coverage, rather than doubling down on Sean Hannity’s show to claim victimhood despite knowing she was wrong.

Haley and Stefanik tying their fortunes to Trump seems so short-sighted and foolish that it calls into question their political instincts and judgment. Trump is uniquely unpopular — both congressional and state-level elections have revealed that his star power does not transfer to others. Furthermore, Trump has shown that his support is often temporary, and his supporters turn when he does. After maintaining a healthy distance for years, aligning themselves with Trump in the midst of an impeachment inquiry seems ill-considered.

This is not to say that all women on the right feel the same. Some feel inspired by the very behavior from Haley and Stefanik I’ve criticized. These women often say they are tired of Republicans refusing to stand up for themselves. But I don’t think this kind of fight is effective, productive, beneficial, or even sustainable. I’d rather they fight by rationally arguing on behalf of their principles, refuting the arguments from the left, and trying to win over hearts and minds. Nikki Haley once understood and even advocated this strategy — but it seems the allure of book sales and Trumpism was too strong.

“In this country,” Abraham Lincoln argued, “public sentiment is everything. With it, nothing can fail; against it, nothing can succeed. Whoever molds public sentiment goes deeper than he who enacts statutes, or pronounces judicial decisions.”

When a movement’s once-best messengers damage their good will and reputations, potential audiences will tune them out. I used to think Haley and Stefanik were inspiring leaders, and good messengers for conservatism. After their recent performances, I’m not sure that’s still the case. And although that would be a loss for us all, it’s a particularly painful loss for conservative women.