The Questions No One Asks (But Every Potential Candidate Should Answer)
7 Gut-Check Questions for Real People Thinking About Running
Everyone wants you to run. Until you do.
If you’ve been to one too many city council meetings, if your neighbor always says you’re the one who should be in charge, if you’re the person in the group chat who actually knows what’s going on at the school board - someone's probably already told you, "You should run."
But here's the thing: not everyone should. And yet, the ones who should often talk themselves out of it.
We need more people to run for office. But we don’t need just names on a ballot. We need candidates who know why they’re running. The folks who can carry something bigger than a party label. Especially here, in red counties, small towns, and rural districts, where every campaign echoes long after the election.
So before you start dreaming about yard signs and slogans, ask yourself these questions. These are the questions no one else will ask you. But they matter more than any filing fee. This is your mirror.
1. Who Are Your First Ten?
Every campaign starts with one person. But the ones that last - the ones that matter - don’t stay that way.
Before you announce, before you even make the decision, ask yourself: who are the first ten people who will help you build this thing?
Not just cheer you on. Who’s going to knock doors? Make spreadsheets? Watch your kids? Donate $25 from their paycheck, even if it’s tight? Who believes in your reason enough to carry some of the weight?
Some people will tell you this is about early fundraising. And yes, raising money matters - but if your first ten people wouldn’t show up to a town hall or wear your T-shirt at the grocery store, the dollars won’t carry you far.
If you can’t think of ten today, that doesn’t mean you’re not ready. But it does mean you’ve got some listening to do. You need to find your people. You need to start organizing. And honestly, that’s a good thing. Because the best campaigns don’t start with candidates. They start with community.
2. What Community Holds You?
Down here, there’s one question you’ll hear early and often: What church do you go to?
If you're not from here, that might sound like nosiness. But it isn't. It’s code. What people really mean is: Who knows you? Who have you shown up for? Who’ll vouch for you when you’re not in the room?
You don’t have to be religious. You don’t need a pew to sit in. But you do need a community. That might be your union. Your kid’s PTA. The regulars at the diner. The mutual aid crew that started during the pandemic and never stopped.
In rural campaigns, there isn’t always a ward captain or party club to back you. What you’ve got instead are relationships. People will forgive you for not having the “right” background, the right job title, or even the right vocabulary (as long as they know you care, and they’ve seen you around).
You need to be known. You need to be trusted. That trust is what gets you past the front porch and into someone’s real attention.
3. What’s Your Reason - and Can You Say It Without a Platform?
Too many candidates start with a checklist: housing, healthcare, jobs, education. They build a platform like it’s a resume.
Forget that for a second. Forget the bullet points.
Why do you care enough to run?
What’s the thing that gets you talking before you even realize you’re ranting? The thing you see breaking over and over again, and no one fixes it? What’s the thing you know in your bones?
That’s your reason. That’s your fire. That’s the thing people will follow.
Because here’s the thing about messaging: it has to start from something real. It’s easier to teach someone how to give a stump speech than it is to help someone fake their passion. Your reason is your grounding when you get off message, when the press asks the weird question, or when a voter tells you something you didn’t expect.
Platforms can be written. Messaging can be shaped. But your why has to be baked in.
You Don’t Need a Perfect Bio - You Need a Real One
If you’re a retired lawyer who volunteers on six boards, sure, you’ve got a tidy public resume. But that’s not what makes someone electable.
You’re a 32-year-old EMS worker? You’ve seen the inside of the healthcare system in ways most people never will.
You rent your apartment? That means you know the stress of a lease going up, or a landlord who won’t fix the heat.
You didn’t go to college, but you can fix anything with an engine? That’s lived experience. That’s perspective.
You may think not owning a home puts you at a disadvantage. But odds are, you're the only candidate in your race who rents - and that means you speak directly to the housing insecurity so many face. You get the cost-of-living pinch. You know what zoning debates mean in real life.
Your story doesn’t need polish. It needs clarity. It needs to connect.
4. Are You Ready to Learn on the Job… and Still Keep Showing Up?
You will not be perfect. You will get things wrong. You will send the wrong email, forget a name, bomb a debate answer.
The question isn’t whether you’ll mess up. It’s whether you’ll keep showing up anyway.
Here’s the quiet truth about most local offices: there is no onboarding. No HR welcome packet. You will walk into a government that assumes you already know how it works… and you’ll be learning as you go.
Can you read a 100-page city budget without falling asleep? No? You will.
Can you admit when you’re wrong? Can you ask for help and actually take it?
If you can do that, you’re already ahead of most people in office.
5. Can You Take a Punch Without Folding?
Running for office (especially as a progressive in a red county) is not for the thin-skinned.
You will be misquoted. You will be underestimated. Someone might call you a socialist at the diner. Someone else might say you're too young, too old, too angry, too quiet.
Can you take criticism without shrinking? Can you stay true to yourself when the easy move is to backpedal? Can you withstand people misreading your intentions, and can you keep going?
If you’re going to lead, you need a spine. But you also need a filter. Every fight ain’t yours. Save your energy for the ones that are.
6. Are You Willing to Do the Boring Work?
Most of campaigning isn’t speeches and applause. It’s call sheets. Budgeting. Endless text banks. Walking streets in the heat or the cold. Calling voters back who never answer.
Do you have the stamina… and humility …to do that kind of work? Will you stuff envelopes at midnight because no one else can? Will you call through a list three times just to get five people to a town hall?
That’s the real stuff. And if you’re serious about making a difference, it has to matter to you too.
7. If You Lose, What Will You Have Built?
Here’s the part they really don’t tell you: most first-time candidates lose. Especially in red districts.
But here’s what else is true: if you do it right, losing doesn’t mean failing.
Did you build new relationships? Did you register voters who had never been asked before? Did you inspire someone else to try next time? Did you make people feel seen?
Good campaigns build local political memory. That means when you run again, or when someone else picks up where you left off, you’re not starting from scratch. That’s how we win long-term.
So ask yourself: win or lose, what are you building?
This Isn’t a Checklist. It’s a Mirror.
This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being ready enough. Not ready with a professional website, or a polished elevator pitch, or a brand guide in your inbox. But ready in your gut. Ready in your values. Ready in your people.
You don’t need the party’s blessing. You don’t need a PAC. You don’t need to wear a blazer that doesn’t fit or know what to do at a donor reception. You don’t need the political shorthand or the inside jokes. Those are learnable.
But you do need a reason. One that keeps you grounded when the wind kicks up. One that keeps you from shrinking when the heat turns on. You need your first ten people. The ones who’ll tell you the truth, hold the clipboard, or drag you out of bed when you doubt yourself. You need to know what it is you’re trying to change, and who it’s for.
You also need to be okay with growing in public. This work happens out loud. You will be seen fumbling. You’ll learn things you didn’t want to admit you didn’t know. But if you stay real and stay rooted, people will walk with you.
So take these questions seriously. Ask them honestly. Don’t just ask yourself. Ask your friends. Ask your family. Ask someone who thinks you’re brave and someone who thinks you’re nuts.
And if the answers point toward yes - even if they’re tangled up in fear, or hope, or heartbreak - then take the next step.
We don’t just need you to be on the ballot. We need you to help build something better.
Not perfect. Just real.