If there was a political movement in this country truly committed to keeping every kid safe, I would lay down in front of a bus for it every single day

Here's what an invitation might look like

Richard Tsong-Taatarii for the Star Tribune

I wasn’t going to write another public essay this week, but I kept thinking about the shooting in South Minneapolis (what was it about this one that has stayed with me: the location, close to so many people whom I care about deeply? the back to school timing? the “oh god one more thing?” ignominy of it all? probably all that, and more). That’s when it gets us, usually, the acute on top of the chronic.

If I’m honest, that image above probably has something to do with it. Oh man. I saw multiple writers (well-meaning, big hearted) post it with some sort of note about how “all of us parents are with that mom.” It’s an immensely sweet sentiment, but it isn’t true. It could be, but that’s up to us to build.

The following is a bit different from what I often write. It’s less an essay than a template. It could be a speech given by a politician (at least one that cared less about winning a single election than building something larger), or a front facing video by somebody with a massive platform. But it could also be an invitation email to a tiny organizing meeting between friends.

I wrote it in this format (rather than an essay in my voice) as a model. I debated, as I wrote it, “why am I not just proposing this directly, asking people to join ME in something I’m facilitating?” And maybe there’ll be some of that in the future (I mean there definitely will be- that’s what Barnraisers is all about). For now, though, I thought there’d be less power and imagination in a “join me” message than a “this is what it looks like to ask people to join you” message. I told you, earlier in the week, that this wasn’t about any one of us being a savior, and I meant it.

I did so, this modeling out loud, because there’s been a lot of talk lately, especially in Democratic politics, about messaging. There have been far too many memos about how to talk about “kitchen table issues” like “ordinary people,” but too often that’s just code for “milquetoast, focus grouped suggestions that appeal to a fictive centrist voter in the heartland and that also won’t tick off any of the Democratic Party’s big money donors.” Yuck.

True persuasion doesn’t start with watering down what you believe in advance. It begins with laying out exactly what you believe and then reaching our hand out, over and over again. It’s about firm convictions and open doors.

Anyways, here’s one form an invitation like that might take. It’s not perfect, but it’s honest. If it resonates with you, steal it. Seriously. Alternately, if you think you could do better, you’re probably right. I’d love to see your version of an invitation.

And if you really want to do something with this but don’t know how, send me an email. And also, if you’re doing good work around these issues and want people to know about it, or want to host people in a certain area to talk, i’m more than happy to spread the word. That’s exactly the kind of help I love giving.

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Hey friends,

Do you have children in your life? Literally any children. Neighbor kids. Friends’ kids. Your own kids or grandkids. Nieces and nephews. Kids who live in this country, or far from here. I’m reaching out right now [about my campaign, about a meeting I want to host, about an organization that I’m already a part of that I want you to join me in supporting, etc. etc.] because I also have kids in my life whom I love, and I wish so badly that I lived in a country that loved them too. Ours doesn’t, though. I bet that you get it. I wish that we didn’t.

Politicians will often say that they love our kids. Most of them are lying. If they did, that’s the only thing they’d ever talk about. It’s the only questions that would animate which bills they supported, which trade-offs they were willing to consider, which political projects were worth their time. How to make being a parent, caregiver or educator easier right now. What percentage of kids in our country make it home safe every night. How many children say, “I am loved, I am trusted, the people around me have the time and space and energy to care.”

Parents often say we care about each other, and many of us wish that was actually true. But we’ve been asked to metabolize a lifetime of hyper competitive junk messages about parenting as a zero sum game, and so in practice many of us spend a whole lot more time trying to get a leg up on other families (“the right school,” “the travel sports team,” etc.) than we do practicing solidarity.

That’s why I wanted to reach out to you. I want to do something, and I don’t want to do it alone. I want to [run for office; chain myself to the Capitol; disrupt a school board meeting; organize a mutual aid network; have a meeting with friends where we figure out what to do, etc. etc.]. I want to stop just feeling heartbroken and angry all the time. I want to ask questions together. What do we wish other people were doing for kids in our lives? What do we wish we were doing for other peoples’ kids? What would make it easier to do so?

I bet you’ve noticed that, when kids are brought up in political discourse, we’re usually only talking about some kids. The list below, as you’ll no doubt guess, has a clear political bias to it. You won’t have to squint hard to see that it’s more of a left wing bleeding heart list than a conservative one. But its primary bias is that it seeks to help as many kids as possible, not just those that often get advantaged in conversations like this.

Here’s that list.

On the most basic level, I don’t want your kids to be murdered. On the question of guns, yes, there are too many of them, they are far too powerful and we don’t need all of them for hunting. We are a nation awash in weapons of war, and to disastrous effect. They are causing our children to be slaughtered at school and struck down in the street because of petty grievances. It is not a complicated issue. We should ban a whole lot of them— especially the ones that are only useful for massacring human beings.

I wish it were just the guns, though. It’s a massive problem, and goodness knows we’ve made no real progress on it, but it’s also one catastrophe amongst many.

Our kids aren’t safe because too many adults in their life are broke and tired and at our wits end trying to survive. Our kids aren’t safe when their families don’t have health care, or decent jobs, or enough food. Since we live in a country where there is plenty of money to go around— enough to ensure that everybody can go to the doctor and live in a decent, safe dwelling and get the childcare they need and send their kid to a loving, abundantly funded public school from kindergarten through college— then we should spread that money about fairly and spend it wisely. Yes, that means taxes, especially on super rich people and corporations. It means as many adults as possible should be in a strong fighting union. And it means our government making thousands of investments in care— public health, parks and transit, early childhood centers, libraries, mental health hubs— literally everything we can imagine that would make life better for kids and the people who love them.

Corporations don’t care about our kids. We know that. Not just the gun makers. The tech overloads who try to colonize every space of our lives. The banks that foreclose on communities. The monopoly retailers that offer one day shipping, but at the cost of everything. Is corporate regulation and trust-busting a kids’ issue? No doubt.

But also, in this moment where we’re told that for the sake of winning future elections, we must tone down on “DEI” and “wokeness,” I don’t want to do that either.

Are there patterns as to which communities have to ask, for generations, “does this country care about our kids?” You’re damn right there are. And so if we care about keeping kids safe, we still need to care about trying to restore and reconcile historic and contemporary sins, wherever they exist. Because our country has always been uniquely awful to Black and Native communities especially, we should welcome rather than be frightened of calls to right those wrongs (reparations, land back, treaty rights, all of it). And since life is particularly terrifying for immigrant communities in this moment, we should do everything we possibly can to make it less scary for kids. Should there, for instance, be an ICE in this country? Have you seen what ICE does to children and families? No, of course not.

There’s a lot of talk about gender these days, about “crises for boys” and all that. I think our boys deserve to be safe and loved and our girls deserve to be safe and loved and our non-binary kids deserve to be safe and loved. There is a crisis of isolation and alienation right now that crosses genders. And also, the broader patterns— about which genders have the hardest and easiest walks through life— are still pretty darn clear and consistent. Let’s believe in our boys enough that we don’t shield them from the reality of patriarchy, just as we shouldn’t pretend that our White kids will shrivel up into tiny balls of unbelonging if they hear about structural racism. Those aren’t academic buzzwords or “DEI phrases” that we should jettison to win elections. They are ways of understanding something we all see with our eyes— a rigged world that still needs to be unrigged. .

As for queer and trans kids, that’s a simple question. Does using them as political footballs make them safer? Does letting politicians dictate their lives rather than families and trusted community members do anything at all for their well being? Do we make all kids safer by making some kids more afraid? No. Of course not. So whenever we talk about issues related to trans kids in particular, that’s the only thing I care about. Will we be kinder or more hostile to a community that has already weathered so much?

And of course, I don’t just want kids in this country to be safe. So yes, I want to raise holy hell about new money for bombs being dropped on children anywhere in the world.

I could go on (climate change: is that an issue of keeping kids safe? do you have to ask?) but I think you get the point.

I’m not pretending we can simultaneously organize for all those issues at once. Right now, I want to invite you to do one specific action with me [come to a meeting, learn about my campaign, etc.. ]. I wanted to share a broader list though, because as we start on that next right thing, that we shouldn’t hide the full contours of our convictions.

Now I do recognize (how could I not?) that many of the ideas I’ve laid out here don’t currently poll well. Some are controversial. And they may feel fantastical, at a time when we’re told that there has been a “vibe shift” and all we can do is batten down the hatches and hope fascism doesn’t come to our doorstep. All the more reason to be louder than ever about what our kids really deserve.

I will grant, however, that there are plenty of counter-points to everything I’ve offered above. That’s fine. Disagree with me. All I ask is that you don’t merely try to debunk my points. Instead, lay out your counter-ideas. How are you going to keep our kids safe, if not through any of these means? Where have your ideas worked? What makes you believe, with all of your heart, that’ll be enough? If that’s the conversation we have— in our living rooms, on our talk shows, in our legislatures— it’d be a hell of an improvement for what passes for political discourse right now.

So make your case. If this won’t keep our kids safe— and crucially, I mean all our kids, especially those most at risk— tell me what will.

But if this list is resonant, I’d love to meet with you. I’d love to build with you.Some day, I’d love to march with you, and millions of others. But for now, let’s grab coffee and see where it goes. If you have kids, bring them with you. They’re always welcome

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I already shared all of this week’s announcements at the bottom of Wednesday’s essay, so for now I’ll just say that if you value writing (and organizing) like this and what I do over at The Barnraisers Project, I’d love your help. A subscription goes an awfully long way. Sharing helps a ton too.