If You Want Something Different, Run.
Most people don’t know what a county commissioner does.
They don’t know what the trustee handles, or how many votes it takes to pass a school board budget, or that the people making decisions about their kids’ classrooms are often elected by a couple hundred people — if that.
But they know that one pothole never got fixed.
They know their kid’s teacher quit mid-year.
They know the city pool opened late and nobody from the county office ever calls back.
And somewhere between knowing things are broken and not knowing what to do about it — they give up.
Because the story they’ve been told, over and over again, is that someone else has to fix it.
Someone older. Someone louder. Someone who’s “ready.”
But that story is a lie.
The ballot is wide open.
And every cycle, we leave power on the table.
We don’t run for school board because we think the current member is “fine.”
We don’t run for commission because we’re not sure we’re qualified.
We don’t run for trustee because we’ve never heard of it — and nobody ever asked us to.
Meanwhile, the other side keeps showing up.
And by the time we realize how much it matters, the filing deadline has passed and the only name on the ballot belongs to someone who doesn’t believe in funding public schools, doesn’t understand what working people face, and doesn’t care to learn.
We say we want to build power. But power doesn’t start at the top.
It starts right here. With who shows up, and who gets counted out.
And we count ourselves out all the time.
Because we’ve been convinced we’re not ready. That someone else is already doing it. That it would be too hard. Too risky. Too public.
But I’ve worked with first-time candidates. I’ve seen what happens when someone decides to run not because they want a title, but because they couldn’t look away anymore.
Because something hit too close to home.
Because the person in office didn’t listen.
Because their kid’s school lost a counselor, and nobody on the board even brought it up.
Because the last straw had already snapped.
That’s what qualifies you.
Not your résumé. Not your donor list.
Not your comfort with a microphone.
What qualifies you is being rooted here. Caring deeply.
And being willing to do something that most people never will:
Put your name on the line for your community.
And yes… maybe there’s someone else already running.
Maybe they’re “good enough.”
But good enough doesn’t build a bench.
Good enough doesn’t flip seats.
Good enough doesn’t push the conversation forward, or bring new people into the fold, or change what voters expect from leadership.
We build that by running — everywhere.
We build it by giving people a real choice.
We build it by showing up in races they assumed we’d ignore.
Even if it’s hard.
Even if we lose the first time.
Because when we show up, we shift the story.
And once you shift the story, you don’t go back.
If you’ve ever said, “somebody should do something…”
This is me saying: You are somebody.
If you’ve ever wished someone would take on the loudmouth on the county commission who keeps talking about banning books…
If you’ve ever sat through a local government meeting and walked away angrier than when you walked in…
If you’ve ever realized your community deserves better than the options they’ve been handed year after year…
Run.
We’ve put together a guide that breaks down every local office on the ballot in 2026.
We made it simple. We made it plain. We made it for people like youCurious about running?
You don’t have to decide today.
You just have to stop waiting for someone else to go first.
Because the second you run — someone else starts to believe they can, too.
And when enough of us believe it? We stop begging for change.
We become the ones who deliver it.
