The Time That Is Given Us

I came of age politically by taking it to the streets—opposing the Vietnam War and fighting to lower the right to vote to 18 years of age. I was an activist for abortion rights, pushing for the passage of Roe v. Wade and, before it became law in 1973, helping women raise hundreds of dollars to travel out of state for care that should never have been denied to them in the first place. Since those early beginnings, I have continued my activism in local, state and national campaigns and in the courts. Relentlessly.

My experiences taught me something early on that still matters today: when the system is wrong, you don’t politely wait your turn—you push back. Hard. Real change has never come from political insiders. It comes from we the people demanding better.

Change doesn’t come from waiting until the moment might get easier or more convenient, nor with a promise of a straight line to victory. It comes from understanding that participation matters regardless of the outcome. We didn’t know, marching against the Vietnam War or fighting for the right to vote at 18, whether we would win. We only knew one essential truth: that silence would guarantee we’d lose.

Today’s moment feels different—but it isn’t. The issues have shape-shifted, and the noise is louder. But the underlying question is the same one my generation and others have faced: will you step up and into the hard work of democracy, or will you step away from it?

I understand why so many, especially younger people, feel disillusioned. The forces facing us are strong, determined, calculated, vicious, and well-heeled. Promises of a better future have been dangled before us and then intentionally snatched back. Progress in defeating these forces will be hard fought, so it’s tempting to believe that disengaging is actually a form of protest — that refusing to participate keeps your powder dry and at least your life story safe for another day.

But History Tells Us Otherwise.

History teaches us that when we the people withdraw, power doesn’t disappear. It concentrates. Decisions still get made. Futures still get shaped. The policies being debated today will shape your education, your health care, your bodily autonomy, your climate, your human rights, and your ability to earn a living wage and work with dignity. They’ll just be made and shaped without the voices of those of us who choose not to show up. Besides, choosing to opt out of the March 3rd Primary won’t shield you from the consequences of it.

Every right we the people have ever won—and benefited from—exists because people before us refused to sit out the fight for it. They voted when it was inconvenient. They voted when intimidated and threatened when they showed to cast a ballot. They voted when it seemed a hopeless dream. They voted when the choices were flawed and the outcomes uncertain. They understood that democracy is not something you inherit fully formed or finished; it is something you have to fight for, protect, and pass on to the next in line.

I’m not calling for blind optimism. I’m calling for engaged hope. Hope that acts and shows up. Hope that understands that participation is not a reward at the end of democracy—it’s the price of keeping the gains and moving forward. I have seen what happens when people decide their voices matter. I have seen laws change, wars challenged, rights expanded. None of it was inevitable. But all of it required people willing to stand up when it would have been easier to sit down.

This Moment, like Every One Before it, will be Shaped by Those who Show Up.

We start to take our Country back in this upcoming March 3rd primary. We stand up and in line to choose among candidates who have themselves stood up, in some cases against all odds, to choose who we believe will best reflect where we want go from where we already are, and have our say in who we believe is best poised to stand fearless, shake things up, and fight for real change on our behalf—not just circle round and round a broken system.