Politics on the fly: Confessions of a hopeful first-timer

I’m about to run for Congress for the very first time, and I feel like I’ve just stepped into a buzzing carnival where flashing lights, cheering crowds and hype men surround me at every turn. Everywhere I look, there’s someone offering “expert” advice on what I should do: how to dress, how to speak, which hands to shake and which groups to charm. It can be dizzying. Part of me wonders if I should just play by the old, time-tested rules and hope they’ll carry me to victory. Another part of me – admittedly the more adventurous side – can’t help being drawn to the trailblazers who once tore up the campaign playbook and started from scratch. Could a bold, offbeat strategy be my ticket to proving that fresh ideas can still capture people’s hearts?

I’m hardly the first candidate to stand at this crossroads. All around the world, there have been politicians who leaped into the unknown, choosing to take unorthodox paths rather than the ones so many of us have been taught to follow. One example that has people buzzing is Nayib Bukele of El Salvador. A few years back, he captured the presidency not by kissing the rings of party bosses, but by charging full-steam ahead on social media. Suddenly, Twitter (now X) – normally a place we mostly associate with memes, celebrity spats and breaking news – was transformed into his campaign command center. He tweeted, people responded, he tweeted some more and soon he was hosting a kind of digital town hall in real time. His approach, to my fresh eyes, might feel like a leap of faith – how could a few hashtags and tweets really topple longstanding political machinery? But it worked. He didn’t just knock politely at the gate; he hopped the fence entirely.

From a newcomer’s perspective, I can see the appeal: you cut through layers of bureaucracy and speak directly to voters. Then again, there’s an inner voice whispering, “Is that reliable? Or are you just chasing a social media fad?” Still, Bukele’s success suggests there’s something potent about forging a direct line to people who are fed up with politics as usual. Behavioral experts often talk about the power of the “illusion of familiarity.” Interacting daily with a candidate on Twitter can make you feel like you know them personally – maybe you even trust them more than the polished figure who shows up on TV once a month. It’s worth thinking about, especially for someone like me just stepping into the ring. After all, if the old system feels too rigid or exclusive, sometimes it makes sense to build a brand new path.

Then there’s the Indian story of Arvind Kejriwal and his Aam Aadmi Party (AAP). Here’s a guy who went from anti-corruption activism to building a grassroots political force that, at one point, had every major party in the country scratching their heads. Instead of courting billionaires with well-tailored suits and expensive ad campaigns, AAP asked regular folks to chip in a few rupees. They relied on the willingness of volunteers who stapled up posters, knocked on doors and organized local WhatsApp groups to drum up excitement. The sheer energy that swirled around their campaign started to feel like a sporting event where everyone was rooting for the underdog.

As someone just starting out, it’s thrilling and a little terrifying to imagine taking such a leap – relying so heavily on volunteers and small donors rather than chasing a “sure-thing” path backed by powerful interests. What if nobody shows up? What if the money runs out? But there’s also a charm to the idea that people might support me not out of political obligation, but because they genuinely want something different. Psychologists call it “social proof:” if you see friends and neighbors jumping on board, you can’t help but wonder if you should, too. And if enough people sign up, something that once seemed impossible – like a complete political newbie winning an election – suddenly starts to look plausible.

Speaking of newbies, consider Indonesia’s Joko Widodo, fondly known as Jokowi. Before he was president, he was a modest furniture salesman and mayor who won people’s hearts by rolling up his sleeves and actually walking through local markets, talking to stall owners face-to-face. Word got around that he’d stop to listen – really listen – to citizens’ concerns. It’s a far cry from the usual political theater of speeches from shiny stages with confetti drifting down. There’s something so disarming about the mental image of a future president carefully stepping around crates of vegetables and fish, chatting with everyday folks and probably awkwardly squeezing between crowded stalls. Yet that sense of “he’s just like us” really resonated. People felt like he could understand their problems because he was standing right there among them.

For a first-timer like me, this example is a gentle reminder that it might be OK to be, well, human. We live in an age of slick political consultants telling you how to phrase every sentence and which color tie projects the best polling numbers. Jokowi’s story implies that sometimes, a little genuine spontaneity can go a long way. People are drawn to those who are real – even if “real” occasionally means stumbling over the microphone or making the odd silly joke. And let’s be honest, I’ll probably have a few clumsy moments of my own, so maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

All these stories leave me with an ever-present question: is it better to risk it all with a bold, inventive strategy that captures attention, or play it safe with a tried-and-true formula? Both approaches can create winners and losers. Part of me worries that if I don’t follow the standard script, I’ll be left standing alone on Election Day, wondering what went wrong. Yet I also wonder if playing it safe means blending into the background, leaving voters uninspired and unimpressed. It’s a tension that every newcomer must feel – the difference between obeying the “experts” and charting one’s own path.

What I do know is that people crave a sense of connection. They want to believe their voice matters. They want hope. Maybe that’s the common thread connecting Bukele, Kejriwal and Jokowi: each one found a way to break through voter cynicism by radiating something genuine, whether it was authenticity, raw energy or daily Twitter chats that felt like a friendly back-and-forth. These leaders put themselves on the same level as ordinary citizens, rather than towering above them.

So here I am, on the brink of my first congressional run, weighing my options. Do I plaster my face on every billboard in the district and hope name recognition alone does the trick? Or do I aim to be the candidate who listens, who tweets and texts and knocks on doors, who maybe stumbles along the way but proves that I’m willing to show up as my true self? It’s hard to say which route guarantees victory, but I’m convinced that people sense real passion and honesty. Even if I decide to poke the traditional bear with an unconventional approach, it’ll be because I believe in the power of genuine human connection – something that no set of “rules” can manufacture.

Maybe the best way to put it is this: I’m not out to simply win or lose. I’m out to learn, to share a vision and to invite others along for the ride. I’m taking notes from those who dared to break the mold before me – knowing full well that forging a new path involves more than a little uncertainty. But if the examples of Bukele, Kejriwal and Jokowi teach us anything, it’s that sometimes the risk is worth it. If their boldness could move mountains, maybe mine can at least shake a few boulders. And who knows, if we manage to pull off something extraordinary, maybe someone down the line will be telling my story to another hopeful first-timer, nudging them to follow their heart rather than merely the rules. One thing’s for certain: I’m ready to give this my best shot – and to do it in a way that just might let fresh eyes see a brighter, more hopeful political world.