There’s a certain rhythm to protests, especially on the Democratic side. I’ve seen it countless times, friends meeting up in parks armed with paint and markers. Group chats light up with messages about where to gather, what the route will be, and where to stop for lunch. In Washington, D.C., under Trump, protests became almost a part of the background noise of life. You could be sitting in a café on Massachusetts Avenue, and the sounds of marching would drift by. It seemed like the louder you yelled, the more valid your cause became.
I’ve joined the chants myself. I remember marching through the National Mall during a Black Lives Matter event, my voice growing hoarse. I thought, well, two things can be true at once: the police were there to safeguard our rights, yet the system repeatedly let down many Black families. But then I paused, wanting to let the fervor of those present at City Hall seep in, thinking it might turn into something persuasive. Yet, amidst all the signs and hashtags, clarity blurred. One protest focused on climate change, another on healthcare, and suddenly, every issue seemed urgent, but the focus seemed to fade.
We often mistook being seen for achieving something meaningful. Each year, we’d repaint the same slogans, jumping from one urgent issue to the next while policing each other’s language. We lauded the massive crowds in major cities but overlooked the quieter streets where real elections were decided. We celebrated the noise, forgetting that the voting booth doesn’t measure volume.
Democrats have been asked to rethink terms like “privilege,” “Latinos,” and other phrases that they’ve considered inclusive.
As we look to 2025, we can see where this approach has led. A recent protest in Arlington, meant to support trans students at a school board meeting, featured an activist holding a sign that compared Virginia’s Lieutenant Governor to a Jim Crow figure. The image overshadowed the message. Abigail Spanberger, a Democratic candidate for governor, denounced the sign for being “racist and appalling.” Meanwhile, Earl Sears gained more exposure and sympathy. The emphasis shifted from policy discussions to the attention-grabbing signs. Were we even considering what the students thought? Much was lost in the noise.
This style of so-called movement politics really isn’t sustainable anymore. It’s not just hearsay. A recent memo from Third Way urged Democrats to ditch 45 terms that sound more like jargon than actual politics (you know, the buzzwords that confuse). This wasn’t about stifling voices; it highlighted a crucial fact: If your message needs a dictionary, you’re probably not reaching anyone new—just those already in your corner.
But this memo had a deeper significance. It hinted at a shift within the party. We’re moving away from a politics fixated on emotional righteousness and moral showmanship. That doesn’t mean we abandon our values. Instead, we need to differentiate between emotional appeal and actual persuasion. Voters—especially working-class ones—prioritize clarity, stability, and dignity over lectures about their failures. Sure, inclusive language is necessary, but performance-based inclusivity—overloading sentences with adjectives to avoid offense—doesn’t foster unity. It creates apprehension about speaking up.
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Election data illustrates this trend. In 30 states tracking party registrations, Democrats have seen a decline relative to Republicans, losing about 4.5 million voters from 2020 to 2024. You might point fingers at maps, voter turnout, or misinformation, but it’s essential to reflect inward. The hard truth is that our candidates often shine, but our brand is tarnished. Protests have morphed into a performance. As we grew larger, we made it harder for newcomers to feel welcome. Meanwhile, disillusioned youth found their own movements that didn’t demand a language test. During this time, our anger was directed mostly at each other.
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Democrats don’t need more signs. What I need is for more adults to step in. We need fewer expressions of anger and more constructive policy-making. Less chatter on group chats and more thoughtful coalition-building. We need people who understand that voters are seeking straightforward issues. They want buses that run on time and reasonable rents, not discussions about terminology.
We can absolutely still be a party rooted in justice, fairness, and opportunity, but we need to communicate more authentically. It’s time to engage with ourselves and to shift focus from who hasn’t been reached yet. The reality is: the crowd is diminishing. Old slogans no longer resonate. And the equations that influence elections don’t care about emotions; they’re focused on how many people you genuinely bring along with you. That’s what truly matters.
