I don’t experience politics as an abstract debate; I experience it as a father.
When you’re responsible for three tiny humans, politics stops being about talking points and starts being about real, unavoidable questions: Will my kids be able to afford to live where they grow up? Will they have access to healthcare when they need it? Will they inherit a democracy that works for them or one that only works for people with power and money? Will they even have a democracy to inherit?
Those questions are what pushed me from frustration into action. They’re a big part of why I’m running for Congress.
From where I sit, as both a candidate and a parent, it’s clear that too many people in power are managing decline instead of confronting it. They’re protecting systems that no longer work and asking the rest of us to accept a future that is smaller, harder, and more uncertain than it needs to be all for the sake of their own comfort.
I refuse to accept that reality.
There’s a quiet but powerful dynamic playing out in American politics right now: young people are being told to wait, be patient, and stay in their lane while the systems we’re inheriting are visibly breaking down.
Let me be clear up front: this is not only about age. Not all older leaders are the establishment. Some of the boldest, most courageous voices in our politics have decades of experience. Experience can be a strength. Institutional knowledge can be an asset.
But most of the political establishment is older and more importantly, most of it is deeply invested in protecting systems that no longer work for working people. To be honest, they’re not resisting change because they don’t understand the problems. They’re resisting change because change threatens existing power structures. It threatens relationships, funding streams, influence, and the quiet agreements that keep things running smoothly for people who don’t have to worry if the world implodes around them.
Young people aren’t being sidelined because we lack ideas, values, or seriousness. We’re being sidelined because we threaten this status quo that has concentrated power, money, and decision-making in the hands of a small group for a very long time. We’re disruptive to this political culture that rewards caution, punishes urgency, and treats incrementalism as a virtue even when incrementalism is clearly failing.
This moment does not call for careful management of decline. It calls for bold leadership that is willing to confront reality.
Young people are living with the consequences of decades of political avoidance. We’re inheriting an economy where housing is out of reach, healthcare is precarious, and debt is normalized. We’re inheriting a climate crisis that was kicked down the road for political convenience. We’re inheriting a democracy weakened by voter suppression, money in politics, and institutions that respond more quickly to donors than to communities. The world we’re inheriting is foreign to many of the generations that came before us because it works for them and their future.
When we confront this publicly, we’re often told to be more “pragmatic.” We’re told we’re too paranoid, too anxious, and need to calm down.
I’m not paranoid. I won’t calm down. And I won’t pretend that any of this is acceptable.
What’s unacceptable is believing we can solve structural crises with surface-level fixes. What’s dangerous is confusing experience with courage and longevity with leadership. Our urgency is not immaturity. It is a rational response to a system that is failing in real time, to a system that for many young people has never worked.
When young people push for real change, we’re often told we’re being divisive. Young people aren’t radical because it’s trendy. We’re radical because the math doesn’t work anymore. The timelines don’t work anymore. The patience we’re asked to show is patience with a system that is actively making our lives harder.
But there is nothing more divisive than asking an entire generation to accept a worse future in the name of political comfort.
This is why young people are not just participating in politics; we’re trying to transform it. We’re not interested in managing a broken system more politely. We’re interested in building one that works and we’re not interested in protecting feelings along the way.
That doesn’t mean rejecting experience. It means rejecting complacency. It means understanding that lived experience today looks very different than it did 20 or 30 years ago. The economy is different. The costs are different. The risks are different. The stakes are different.
So, when young people demand bolder action, faster timelines, and deeper structural change, we’re not being unrealistic. We’re being honest about the conditions we’re living in.
This moment doesn’t belong to any one generation, but it does demand a new kind of leadership. Leadership that is willing to let go of what’s comfortable to build what’s necessary.
That’s the kind of leadership I’m trying to bring into this race.
I’m not running because I think I have all the answers, but because I refuse to accept a political culture that tells people to wait while their future gets smaller. I refuse to accept a system that protects power instead of people. And I refuse to tell my kids someday that I saw this coming and chose not to fight it.
If politics keeps prioritizing seniority over urgency, access over accountability, and stability over justice, it will continue to lose the trust of the very people who must live with the consequences the longest. Young people aren’t asking to be included as a gesture. We’re demanding to be taken seriously as leaders in a moment that requires more courage than the establishment has been willing to show.
The future is not something we get to wait for. We’re already living in it, and it sucks. That’s why we’re stepping up to change it.
This article was originally published on Ethan Wechtaluk’s Substack. Republished on TANTV News with permission.
