Everywhere I go, I meet folks who are angry. Angry about how hard life is right now. Angry that politics feels like a performance. Angry that the people we send to Washington seem more interested in fighting each other than fixing problems.
And yes, angry at the Democratic Party.
Some of that anger is justified. I’ve been around long enough to know that the party hasn’t always lived up to its ideals. It’s hard to lead if you don’t stop to listen. I’ve said many times—and I mean it—that I love the Democratic Party not because it’s perfect, but because it’s capable of growth. Just like our country, we are always striving to be better.
But what I’m hearing more and more lately isn’t just criticism. It’s contempt. People on our own side are trashing the very institution we need to rebuild trust, drive turnout, and deliver real change. People are using the party as a punching bag because it’s politically convenient. Even worse—tearing it down has become a sport.
I get it. Certain people want to be the change. They want to be the disruptor. They want to run against “the establishment,” whatever that means. Because the only established group to consistently show up for the Democratic Party are the Black ladies from church who make calls and put out signs. (And I know firsthand that if you come for them, they will make sure you sit your ass down.)
But here’s the thing: When the party is weak, the people are unprotected.
It’s not just about infrastructure or staffing or voter files. It’s about having the muscle to fight back. The ability to sustain gains, not just win one-off elections. When you don’t invest in the party, you don’t have the power to push policy. You don’t have the reach to build coalitions. And you sure as hell don’t have the staying power to beat back extremism from the other side.
I’ve said that 2026 is going to be like 2006. That means 2028 has the potential for the same big wins we saw in 2008. And I can’t emphasize enough that we have to take lessons from the playbook Democrats implemented back then: recruit candidates and build the infrastructure necessary to compete in all 50 states and seven territories and focus on what Democrats are doing right.
I’m not saying we should pretend 2024 did not happen. But we had some major victories during the Biden Administration. We passed the most significant climate investment in U.S. history. We lowered the cost of insulin. We made historic investments in infrastructure and manufacturing.
President Biden was one of the most legislatively productive presidents in modern history. But the headlines don’t reflect that. The sentiment doesn’t reflect that. And part of the reason is because we, as Democrats, don’t always take credit for what we’ve done.
Instead, we immediately lament everything we didn’t get accomplished. We beat ourselves up before the other side even gets the chance. Then we wonder why voters don’t feel inspired.
Let me be clear: I’m not saying we should settle. I’m not saying we shouldn’t push for more. I want us to be ambitious. I want us to be visionary. But there’s a difference between constructive criticism and destructive cynicism.
We can—and should—be proud of the progress we’ve made. That doesn’t mean we stop pushing. It means we build on that progress instead of bulldozing it just to make a point on social media.
This week on At Our Table, I had a long conversation with Congressman Ro Khanna about the tension between wanting change and needing to protect the infrastructure that makes that change possible.
At one point, Rep. Khanna said something that stuck with me: “The country wants the next party in power to help unify America, but how are they going to believe we can do that if we can’t even unify our own party?”
He’s right. Our divisions are real. Our disagreements are real. But they can’t become the whole story. If you’re a Democrat running for office or organizing in your community and your only message is “the party sucks,” you’re not leading. You’re not fighting. You’re just freeloading off generations of people who bled for this party and believed in its promise—even when it didn’t believe in them.
Yes, we need a new generation of leadership to step up. And we have a talented bench ready. Yes, we benefit from fresh ideas. We already have those too. But we can’t set fire to everything that came before. That’s not evolution. That’s erasure. And it’s not only lazy, but it doesn’t work.
We need what I call a hopeful evolution—a belief that we can grow, change, and move forward without forgetting the people and the principles that got us here. We can critique with care. We can reform with respect. We can be fierce without being reckless.
And here’s the truth: The American people are watching us. They’re looking for signs of life. For signs of unity. For signs of strength. If we act like we’ve already lost, why should they trust us to lead?
We don’t win by wallowing. We win by working, organizing, building, and showing up everywhere, not just in cities, but rural areas and places where Republicans have control. We win by reminding people what we stand for—and then standing on it.
I’m not interested in purity tests or ideological scorecards. I’m interested in winning. That’s how we protect our democracy. And that’s how we deliver for working people who are just trying to get through the damn day.
So yes, call out what’s broken. Shine a light on what’s not working. But don’t forget what we’ve built. Don’t trash the only vehicle we have to get this country back on track.
If you care about the future, help fix it. But don’t kick the party when it’s down. Because the next time you need it, there might not be much left to stand on.
Shout this from the rooftops. How can the American people believe in the party if the party doesn't believe in itself? There is much to be loud and proud about. Listen to Jamie democrats.