Before the Event:
Going to the DNC isn’t easy or affordable, and it’s correctly portrayed as something most workers won’t have the chance to experience. I had the opportunity to go & support a union I deeply respect—a militant union that practices common good bargaining and genuinely engages its rank-and-file members. Therefore, I felt excitement to be there in a union capacity & to be present at a historic event.
Regardless of how you feel about politics, this was history in the making. For me, it was most exciting knowing there is a real possibility to elect a public school teacher AND former union member to the vice presidency. The last union member to hold office was the piece of shit, Ronald Reagan.
I was also lucky enough to be hosted by a friend in Chicago who happens to be a professor and an immigrant. She shared that her hometown was also covering the DNC, not because of the historical significance, but because Italians apparently find American politics very strange. She said, “We vote and organize, but we don’t treat politicians like sports teams. You Americans are very strange.”
And after what I witnessed, I have to say, she’s right.
During the Event:
The first three days were chaotic—waking up at 5 AM and sleeping until 11 PM, trying to keep up with the demands of the day. I’ll admit, I got caught up in the excitement too—meeting Bernie Sanders, Sara Nelson, and Shawn Fain was surreal.
As the days went by, I started to see the event for what it truly was: a spectacle of political celebrity culture. It was disturbing to witness people flocking to politicians. The sheer amount of money spent on this event was staggering—funds that could have been used for schools, organizing, or providing material goods for those in need. But instead, it was all about the show and people ate that shit right up.
After the Event:
The last day allowed me to take a step back and absorb the event because my responsibilities had slowed significantly. The fanatical worship of political figures was disgusting. I felt like I was in a mega church and as a former Christian, I know fanatism when I see it. A friend described it as politicians being treated like political influencers, with the convention serving as Coachella. It wasn’t about ideas or values; it was about flexing importance based on who you knew and how many people recognized you. It was a toxic environment, filled with people aspiring to power for power’s sake—a reality that felt especially wrong coming from those who should be advocating for working people.
When VP Kamala Harris took the stage and began talking about immigration and the border, I became enraged. When I heard the DNC abrupt in applause I felt like I was in the Capitol of the Hunger Games. The cheers for her immigration policy, rooted in more border patrol and militarization, were a slap in the face to my community. It was a reminder that many democrats are oblivious to the reality of the lives they play politics with. Once again, immigrants will get fucked by both parties to slow down the rate of a fascist state.
And when she spoke about Israel and Palestine, it was even worse. The room erupted in cheers for Israel’s right to defend itself, while the ongoing genocide in Gaza was completely omitted. What struck me was the way Palestinian lives were minimized, and reduced to just “suffering.” A thought ran through my head to sprint to the $500k rented balcony I was near and scream FREE PALESTINE. I even imagined getting tackled by Secret Service, but it wasn’t the physical pain I feared. What held me back was the thought of making things harder for the woman of color I was there to staff and support. I didn’t want to add to the stress for her or the union I was there to assist that week.
That’s cowardly of me and for that I am ashamed.
The silver lining from this experience was that I solidified the idea that I never want to run for a political position, I have no interest in becoming a director or holding a position of “power” or leadership if it means I cannot speak my mind and call a genocide a genocide or tell a colleague “no, I don’t want a picture with Gavin Newsom because I fucking hate that guy” while he’s right in front of me.
There is a lot of power in being “just a worker” and being protected by your contract and union, a protection no director or boss will ever know (shout out to unions).
Final Thoughts:
I could not leave that place any faster. The spectacle of it all—the money spent, the power dynamics, the celebrity worship—is the antithesis of worker power. I know the DNC isn’t a place where I expected to find community or labor organizers, but was shocking being in the center of the democratic party machine and finding it utterly repulsive.
And if you read this far, thank you and I also hope your takeaway isn’t “don’t vote” because voting is crucial and I will be voting. Hell, I will not only vote, but will also canvass to get Harris/Walz elected, not because I’m a fan, but because voting isn’t about cheering for a political team, it’s about choosing your political enemy.
And if you think there’s no difference between a Trump and Harris Administration, I invite you to look into the appointments of the National Labor Relations Board, the FCC, EPA, Dept of Education, DOJ, The Supreme Court, EPA, and literally everything else. As someone who worked in immigration advocacy under both an Obama and Trump administration, I will tell you there is a difference, not a huge difference, but a difference that can mean life or death for many working-class and poor people.
I hope the takeaway from this is:
1. Fuck celebrity culture. No masters, no bosses, no heroes.
Our work doesn’t end with the election. It’s just beginning.
We need to organize, aggressively and intensely, because the only way we’ll gain true political power is by building a massive coalition with great collective worker power.
Unionize everything. Get to know your neighbors, your coworkers, and everyone around you because no one will save us but us.
Solidarity with the poor and working-class only and forever.