Politics and the power of the genuine

a reflection on how the first families showed up last week and why it matters

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A political convention is, of course, a performance at its core. This is one of the things I was struck by while watching the Democratic National Convention with my family last week. The speakers are carefully chosen and vetted, drafts of their talks written and re-written. The order in which they speak and for how long is carefully considered and re-considered. The outfits they wear, are also, no doubt, a matter of painstaking curation—what does a pantsuit versus a dress say about someone? What colors symbolize different things to different people? Can you imagine the second-by-second, run-of-show spreadsheets that must go into such an event?! From the stage design to the technological coordination, the musical choices to the snacks in the greenroom—the planning must be simply epic.

Which is why, my favorite parts of the convention were the moments when the unplanned snuck in. Despite all the various systems of control exerted on the convention, there is no way to extinguish human spontaneity, and in this case, that really felt most evident when it came to the families of the nominees. As I watched with my own neurodiverse, multi-generational family, squished side-by-side on my parents’ couch, I delighted in the uncontrollability of it all.

Tim Walz’s 17-year-old son, Gus, leaping into the air, weeping and yelling, “That’s my dad!” Suddenly commentators were scrambling to understand who Gus is, how his brain and heart work, what the implications might be for public conversations regarding neurodiversity and learning differences and mental health. Heck, all the sports metaphors in the world didn’t hold a candle to the way that Gus’ unabashed expression of love shaped the public conversations thereafter about gender. Huzzah Gus! Way to go!

Kamala Harris’ step-daughter, Ella, clapping enthusiastically while giving off a distinctively artistic, anti-establishment vibe (you can check her instagram for more where that came from). In a past era, she would have been a massive liability—a symbol of something that her parents were afraid might make the family seem too edgy or permissive. In this new era, she seems to be moving through the world in her own zig-zagging, knitting, tattooed, humor-filled, body-positive way.

Ella’s dad, Doug, gave a fawning speech about blended families, highlighting that Kamala is both wife, mamala, and political badass and that the three aren’t in contradiction; while this was carefully crafted, the energy between the two of them has an alive quality that can’t be ghostwritten. As my friend recently said, “You can always just tell when a couple that’s been together forever still actually likes each other.” I feel that with Doug and Kamala—a kind of electricity that can’t be manufactured.

There is so much more to say about the versions of family and gender that we saw on that stage—the little Black girls teaching the rest of America to properly pronounce someone’s name with joy and verve, the rich text of sisterhood and motherhood interwoven through out, the warrior goddess energy dripping off of so many of the speakers. Some of it was planned. But a meaningful amount of it was the irrepressible surfacing of the messy, neurodiverse, multi-generational, multi-racial, gender fluid, America that I live in every single day—where stepmothers are also badasses and teenage boys are also criers and daughters are also their own damn people.

Isn’t that glorious — to see your own quirky, sometimes dysfunctional, often beautiful family reflected back aesthetically, energetically, and even spiritually? It’s such a relief in so many ways, like there’s a real possibility of trusting people who show up as their true relational selves.

And it’s not just a matter of tribe—that I am comforted by seeing the first families genuineness and messiness come through because it reminds me of my own. It’s also a matter of how power is wielded and how perspectives are shaped. A president that knows she can’t dictate the clothing and expression of her step-daughter, is one who truly lives with the realities of the freedom she has made central to her campaign messaging. Freedom isn’t always easy on a family, or a community, or a country. It means bumping up against one another’s morals and expressions and style. It means having wise boundaries—understanding that your daughter or your neighbor doesn’t have to be in perfect alignment with your own values to be valued.

A vice president who moves in the worlds of traditional masculinity—football and military and guns, for God sakes—but also embraces, wholeheartedly, his son’s exuberance and tears, is a leader who can roll with spectrums rather than getting pinned down by dualities. He likely has muscles for making legislation that does some of a thing if not all of a thing, and knowing that it could make a big difference to a lot of people. And still piss others off. That’s legislation, at it’s best—considering imperfection options and how they might impact the common good; it is weighty compromises and imperfect coalitions, eternally unfinished cultural evolution and inflection points of real opportunity.

Of course I didn’t love everything these candidates said. The line Kamala unleashed about ensuring America has the “strongest and most lethal fighting force in the world” chilled me to the bone. I hated it with as much force as I loved her evocation of her mother’s courage and community as emblamatic of what America is at its best. That’s the moment we’re in. These are the people we’ve got. And I’m going to fight like hell for us to have imperfect leaders, who like imperfect parents, might be deeply wrong about some things, but are genuine and in love and beloved. Just like me and my motley crew, getting crumbs on the floor and fighting over board games and tearing up because we love one another just so damn much.