To all the Democratic Congresspeople who've emailed me before...

... and who will soon be emailing (and texting) again

SUBJECT LINE: “URGENT!”

Do you like that one? I had options. I could have gone with “Disappointed in you, [insert name] or “I hate to do this, but we’re in trouble.”

I learned those moves from you, by the way. The personal appeal. The panicked exhortation. The “drop everything” declaration of imminent danger. Those aren’t your only go-tos, of course. If I had your phone number, I might have texted you a brooding-but-relatable picture of myself and a mini bio, focus-grouped to perfection. Something that would make me sound relatable. Something like this.

Hi [insert name of elected official],

My name is Garrett Bucks. I’m a dad, former teacher and community organizer in Milwaukee. When I was growing up in Montana, my parents taught me that when your neighbor is in trouble, you roll up your sleeves and pick up a shovel. That’s why I’m running for Congress writing a desperate plea to people who already ran for Congress to…

I say all this by way of establishing my bonafides. I’m fluent in the language of sky-is-falling entreaties because of how frequently I’ve been on the receiving end of them. For most of my adult life, you have pummeled me with a metric ton of text messages, robocalls and emails. You have asked me to knock doors, sign petitions and most of all, open my wallet. You have treated FCC reporting deadlines as if they are dispatches from atomic test sites. You have told me that every single election was the most important of my lifetime.

If this sounds like a wind-up to some sort of hellacious take-down, I’m actually not quite there. I have plenty of friends, family members and mentors who have given up fully on electoral politics and the Democratic Party. Goodness knows my own politics are far to the left of most of yours. But this isn’t a “goodbye to all that” missive. The thing is, the reason why you all text and email me so much is that I have given you money. I have knocked on doors. I actually do believe that elections have consequences, and that some of them have, in fact, been the most important of my lifetime.

I’m writing because, before we know it, you will be campaigning again, which means that you will be in my phone once more, hand outstretched.

And you know what? When that moment comes, I very well might heed your beck and call. For all my critiques of your fecklessness and corporate-friendliness, there remains a real difference between you and the alternative. I believe in a diversity of tactics to build a better world, including electoral politics. I’m listening, you all. I’m not swatting your hand away. When the requests come in, at least from some of you, I may very well click on the desired links and take the requested actions.

But it’s not a guarantee. Not after the past few weeks.

By this point in the new Trump administration, there have already been multiple news cycles about how grassroots activists keep yelling at you all to “do something” and how that makes you grumpy and recalcitrant. “We’re not in power!” you reply. “We don’t have the votes!” “Why don’t you yell at the other side?”

By way of response: yes, you very much aren’t in power (Lord knows that’s clear) and yes, you don’t have the votes. As for being willing to yell at the other side… WITH PLEASURE.

But also.

Up to this point, I have mostly stayed out of the “elected Democrats, why aren’t you doing more?” debates. Respond to James Carville? In this economy? No thank you.

To be clear, I haven’t ignored you all. I keep calling your offices, and encouraging others to do so as well. But I haven’t put all my eggs in that basket.

My relative avoidance of the “do something” meta-debates hasn’t been for lack of caring. I’ve just been trying to keep my eye on the prize. I believe that there is so much we can do without you all, that movements don’t require elected officials to be powerful, and that there will be a spark regardless of your relative temerity or timidity. In your defense, you have generally voted the way I’d prefer. Every day, a few more of you make decent statements or post something fiery on social media. It isn’t enough, but it’s not nothing.

I still believe all that. And yet, here I am, finally writing my own version of a “Democratic electeds, do something!” plea. What’s changed? I actually haven’t gotten angrier at you. I’ve gotten more hopeful about everybody else.

Across the U.S., more and more of your constituents are sticking their necks out against fascism. They are picketing Tesla dealerships every weekend. They are raising holy hell at Republican town halls. They are getting arrested. They are putting their bodies in harm's way. They are resigning their jobs out of principle. They are staying in their jobs and gumming up the works. They are telling their neighbors, at every possible opportunity, the true cost of the G.O.P.’s cavalcade of cruelty.

Have you seen who is disproportionally showing up at town halls, by the way? It’s elders. Individuals who could be tuned out right now, muffling out the world. And yet your and my retired neighbors are fighting like hell for a better world for their grandkids. They’re filled with fury and love. They’re acting like something matters more than their own comfort. They’re setting a pretty good example for all of us. I’ve been inspired. Have you?

I’m sure that you’re aware of the budget bill that just passed Congress. I hope you recognize that, if it passes the reconciliation process, it will kill people. Families on SNAP won’t be able to feed their kids, our loved-ones on Medicaid will die from lack of treatment, and so many of us will be grist for the mill of a new gilded age. As word continues to spread of the carnage that’s about to come our way, your constituents will only get bolder. The weather will warm up and the protests will grow. Your GOP colleagues are already cancelling their town halls, so many who currently shout down Babylon at public meetings will occupy offices instead. The quieter you are, the more likely that your office will be among the occupied.

There is and will be a movement brewing. A fearful and anxious movement, for sure but also hopeful and filled to overflowing with a recognition of our shared humanity. There are millions of us who don’t want to see our neighbors killed or abandoned. We have been told by the media that our days were over, that we are too downtrodden, that the few of us remaining were just woke dinosaurs who missed news of the vibe shift asteroid. And yet, here we are.

Again, the movement doesn’t need your leadership. But I invite you to join us.

I’m writing because you all told me, in email after email, that Trump was an existential threat. You were right, by the way, which is why I and so many others desperately need you to act as if that’s the case now. Yes, you should use parliamentary means to stall the relentless march of God awful bills. Yes, you should encourage the lawsuits and put out the press releases and make your pithy little statements on social media.

Do all that, please, but know that it is not enough.

I need you to recognize that the more you lean on the crutches of precedent and protocol, the more that you implicitly send the message that actually this is normal, that whatever Trump and the GOP are up to isn’t that big of a deal and that most of all, you’re OK if your constituents die if it means that you don’t ruffle feathers at your job.

I suppose that’s the heart of the matter, really. Back to the requests for money. You’re going to be making them again, and soon. I have no doubt that you love our money. I have no doubt you love that our votes and our volunteer hours and all the collective blood, sweat and tears enables you to have a job and a bully pulpit and a public platform.

What I’m wondering, however, is whether you also love us?

If so, I want you to show it. Not just by voting the right way or going live on Instagram with a “viral takedown” or back-channeling a strident quote to the congressional press pool. Not just by holding news conferences or pursing your lips and making a very concerned statement.

When I say, “do something,” I am waiting for one or two or several of you to actually act as if these are unprecedented times, which is another way of saying I need you to take unprecedented action.

You likely didn’t run for Congress intending to get arrested, but I need you to do so.

You likely didn’t run for Congress thinking that you’d camp out in front of a free clinic that’s under threat, promising not to move until its funding was restored, but I need you to do that as well.

You likely didn’t run for Congress plotting to physically block the doors of a community center in your home district because you got word that ICE was on the way, but yes, please please please.

You didn’t run for Congress to hunger strike or filibuster for days or camp out with a fired park ranger on public land or have to be carried off Federal property by law enforcement.

Oh man, how I’d love if you’d do those things, though. So many of us would.

When I (and likely many others) say “do something,” what we mean is both all the things that Congresspeople are supposed to do when they’re in the minority and also so much more. We don’t need you to showboat just for the sake of your personal brand (in fact, some of the actions I’m describing may very well keep you from being re-elected).

What we do need, however, is for you to understand how media and spectacle works. We need you to become the shiny object so that our collective attention doesn’t move forward from one horror to another. We need you to know that you are just like us, but that your title means that when you lock yourself to your desk, the cameras will follow. We need headlines that say “Dozens of Democratic Congresspeople arrested…” because of what the second half of that sentence will say.

…protesting cuts to Medicaid.

…standing with laid off Federal employees.

…refusing to comply with anti-trans executive orders.

…showing us, your constituents that you actually love us, that you feel our fear and hope and terror, that you want to keep us all alive.

Never forget.

You need our support. We, the addresses on your email lists. We the “base” that is so often taken for granted. We the [insert names] who you will be asking, once again, for help.

Someday soon, you will be telling us that this time it’s urgent.

But here’s what you and I both know.

If any time is urgent, it is now. If you want us to believe that we aren’t powerless, you need so show us what’s possible when you set fear aside. If you have ever called yourself a public servant, it’s time to serve the public. We will be there too. In so many ways, we already are. All we’re asking is for you to join us.

Per my current email

End notes:

1. We’re down to the last few Barnraisers community building classes and they’re getting pretty large, so it’s highly likely that we’ll close registration a few days early (meaning, in the next couple days). More info here and registration here. And don’t worry, there will be another round of classes coming soon, so if you miss these stay tuned. You all, these have been such a joy.

2. Evergreen reminder: All of this—writing, running trainings, coaching organizers— is more than a full time job. I strongly believe in offering all of it for free, because being welcomed into the work of building a better world shouldn’t just be for those who can pay. But, if you are somebody who can afford to chip in, please consider doing so. That’s the only reason I can do this work. As for those who want to help but can’t afford a subscription? Sharing this or any of my essays is a cool way to spread the word. Thanks!

3. I originally said that I’d be offering my annual bonus Oscars issue for paid subscribers (fun nonsense, mostly, but with some attempts at insight sprinkled in) on Friday, but since I decided to write this one, I’ll send that one on Sunday instead. Seems better, anyway, right? That’s when the Oscars are, after all. Non-paid subscribers: if you want access to that one, don’t worry. I’m kind with comp access. Simple instructions coming on Sunday.

4. If you’re a Democratic elected official reading this, hi! I believe you can do it!

5. That’s all for now. See you Sunday.