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There’s a question every candidate gets asked in one form or another, even when it’s never said out loud:
Who gave you the right to be here?
Sometimes it comes from donors. Sometimes from party leaders. Sometimes from pundits, focus groups, or activists who swear they’re helping. And sometimes it comes from inside your own head, after enough people suggest—politely or not—that you should soften this, hide that, emphasize something else, or wait your turn.
Authenticity in politics isn’t about being unfiltered or saying whatever pops into your head. It’s about something harder and far more dangerous: defining yourself in your own terms, and refusing to let anyone else decide whether your presence is justified.
In my recent conversation with Vice President Kamala Harris on At Our Table [ [link removed] ], that idea surfaced again and again—not as a slogan, but as a survival strategy.
“I really try to be conscious and intentional about not defining my reason or right to be based on other people’s thoughts about whether I have a reason or right to be,” she said. “So part of my advice would be, don’t do that. Don’t define your presence based on whether it makes other people comfortable. Because you will never win in life if you carry that burden.”
That’s not just campaign advice. That’s life advice.
And I have to remind myself of this constantly in my own leadership.
The Trap Candidates Fall Into
Most candidates don’t start out inauthentic. They start hopeful. They start believing they can bring their full selves into public life. Then the machinery kicks in.
You’re told your story is too complicated. Or too emotional. Or not “relatable enough.” You’re told to file down the edges, avoid certain words, distance yourself from certain experiences. You’re told who you can be, long before voters ever meet you.
And here’s the cruel irony: the more a candidate tries to meet everyone else’s expectations, the less voters trust them.
Voters may disagree with you. They may even dislike you. But they can smell self-erasure from a mile away.
When candidates start defining themselves by comfort—Will this upset donors? Will this scare suburban voters? Will this make party leadership nervous?—they lose the one thing no consultant can manufacture: credibility.
Authenticity Is Not a Vibe. It’s a Discipline.
There’s a lazy version of “authenticity” that gets thrown around in politics. It usually means “be folksy” or “sound normal” or “post a selfie eating barbecue.” Lately it’s been about using foul language or crafting the perfect zinger.
That’s not what we’re talking about.
Authenticity is discipline. It’s the daily practice of asking: Am I saying this because it’s true to who I am and what I believe or because I think it will make my life easier for the next news cycle?
It’s choosing clarity over approval.
It’s understanding that if you don’t define yourself, someone else will. And they won’t be generous.
Within Democratic politics, the incentives often run in the opposite direction. Candidates who stay vague raise money faster. Candidates who avoid sharp edges get fewer warning calls. Meanwhile, candidates who define themselves clearly are labeled “too risky,” “too early,” or “not electable enough.” The message, whether intentional or not, is clear: blend in first, stand out later. But leadership doesn’t work that way, and neither does trust.
This isn’t just about confidence. It’s about agency. When you define your right to be in the room based on other people’s comfort, you are constantly negotiating your existence. That negotiation never ends. And it never tilts in your favor.
Why This Matters More Than Ever
We’re living in a political moment obsessed with performance and allergic to truth. Social media rewards outrage. Cable news rewards caricature. Campaigns are pressured to flatten human beings into talking points.
In that environment, authenticity becomes a radical act.
Candidates—especially women, candidates of color, and first-time candidates—are often told to prove they belong before they’re allowed to lead. They’re asked to justify their ambition in ways others never are.
The burden Vice President Harris names is familiar to anyone who has ever been told to be “less threatening,” “more palatable,” or “more grateful.”
And that burden doesn’t just weigh candidates down. It weakens democracy. When leaders are trained to center other people’s comfort over their own convictions, politics starts to feel less about real choices and more about carefully managed risk.
For Democrats, that weakness is especially damaging. Our party talks the most openly about representation, voice, and inclusion, yet too often, our candidates feel pressure to shrink themselves to fit what they believe party insiders will tolerate. Voters are left choosing between carefully edited versions of leadership, and elections become exercises in risk management instead of moments of real choice. We don’t just lose bold candidates. We lose a full range of ideas, experiences, and truths that push the country forward.
Voters Don’t Need Perfect. They Need Real.
One of the biggest lies in modern campaigning is that voters demand perfection. They don’t. What they demand is honesty.
Voters understand growth. They understand complexity. They understand that leadership is forged through experience—including failure.
What they don’t forgive is pretense.
When a candidate is constantly adjusting themselves to fit whatever audience they’re in front of, voters sense the disconnect. When a candidate speaks from a place of grounded self-knowledge, even tough messages land differently.
Authenticity doesn’t mean you never adapt. It means you adapt without disappearing.
Defining Yourself Is an Act of Power
There’s a reason the most effective leaders are the ones who seem hardest to box in. They’ve already done the work of defining themselves.
That doesn’t mean they’re rigid. It means they’re anchored.
That distinction matters.
You can listen without surrendering.
You can learn without shrinking.
You can lead without asking to be liked.
A Challenge to Candidates and to Parties
If you’re a candidate reading this, here’s the hard truth: the moment you start carrying other people’s comfort as your responsibility, you’ve already lost something essential.
And if you’re a party leader, consultant, or donor, here’s the harder truth: every time you pressure a candidate to sand down who they are in the name of “electability,” you may be undermining the very trust voters are craving.
Authenticity isn’t a risk to manage. It’s an asset to protect.
The Freedom on the Other Side
There is a freedom that comes when you stop auditioning for permission.
When you decide that your presence doesn’t require approval, your voice changes. Your posture changes. Your leadership changes.
You don’t chase every headline.
You don’t contort yourself for every room.
You don’t carry the impossible burden of being all things to all people.
And paradoxically, that’s when people start listening.
Because real leadership has never come from comfort. It comes from conviction.
And the candidates who will shape the future aren’t the ones who asked nicely for a seat at the table. They’re the ones who showed up, defined themselves, and refused to leave.

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