If I Ran for Office: Thoughts from a Reluctant Citizen
“If I ran for office, here’s what I’d want said about me — and why we need more ordinary, grounded people in politics. A reflection on who gets into public office and who we really need there.”
A friend of mine recently said I had the kind of heart and clarity that would make a good public servant.
I laughed — after all, I can barely afford my cat’s vet bills, let alone bankroll a campaign. The idea of running for office has always seemed about as likely for me as climbing Mount Everest — and about as appealing.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made me wonder: what kind of person should run for office? What kind of person actually succeeds in politics today — and what does that say about the system we’ve built?
The Reality of Who Gets In
The honest answer? Wealthy people.
People with deep connections, time to spare, and the ability to self-fund if needed. People who can hire image consultants, media coaches, and lawyers — and who can withstand the soul-sapping gauntlet of modern campaigning.
For someone like me — an introvert who finds small talk exhausting and public performance almost surreal — the idea of seeing my face on glossy billboards, of glad-handing strangers at endless events, of constantly selling myself — it’s more horror movie than civic duty. I’m envious, sometimes, of those who seem to thrive on that energy. But I know it would hollow me out.
And yet — if only those who enjoy the game are the ones playing, we all lose something deeper.
The Qualities We Actually Need
If I ran for office, here’s what I’d want said about me:
That I listen more than I talk.
That I treat people with dignity, even when I disagree with them.
That I make decisions based on reason and compassion, not fear.
That I am unafraid to say “I don’t know” and seek out wiser voices.
That I don’t want power for its own sake — but am willing to wield it responsibly for the common good.
None of that requires a trust fund or a famous last name.
It requires character. And too often, character is the first thing sacrificed in the modern political arena.
Why I Probably Won’t Run — And Why You Might Consider It
The truth is, I probably won’t run for office. The barriers are high — and frankly, the sheer emotional toll of campaigning would be too much for me. Just imagining a calendar full of public appearances, forced smiles, endless phone calls begging for donations — it exhausts me before I even start.
I deeply admire those who can do it and remain true to themselves. But I’ve learned enough about who I am to know that I serve better in other ways — by writing, listening, encouraging, and supporting from a quieter place.
But maybe you should. Maybe someone reading this — someone who thinks they’re “not the political type” — is exactly who we need. Someone grounded, compassionate, clear-eyed. Someone who remembers what it’s like to live in the real world.
Because if we keep leaving politics to the wealthy and the power-hungry, we’ll keep getting the same results. And I, for one, would like to live in a world where a person who’s cared for a sick cat, worried about paying the bills, and tried to live with reason and kindness, might actually have a seat at the table.
Closing Reflection
I’m not here to tell you to run for office — unless your heart is already pulling you that way. But I am here to remind you that public life doesn’t have to belong only to those born with privilege or trained to play the game. We need more voices at the table. More human ones. More people who know what it means to struggle, to learn, to care.
And if nothing else, we can all do our part to support those voices — to seek out candidates with integrity, to push for reforms that lower the barriers, and to remind ourselves that leadership begins with listening.
As for me? I’ll be here — writing from my studio, caring for my cats, doing my best to live by the values I hope to see in the world. That may not win an election. But it’s a kind of public service, too.