IF YOU HAD TOLD ME I'd be speaking at a congressional nominating convention in 2024, I would have assumed my political career had begun. Getting a speaking slot at a convention usually means your party likes you, wants to put you front and center, and invest in your future. But getting invited to speak at the opposing party's convention—well, that signals something entirely different.
When I received the invitation to speak at the Democratic National Convention, I wasn't too surprised. There were rumors that I would be speaking along with other Republicans, and apparently I was the last to hear about it. I debated it in my head. I knew it would cause a stir. Some in my party, circle of friends, and family would accuse me of treason, and others would question my motives. I knew there would be angry text messages and probably a few more lost friendships because “I could hire you to investigate January 6th, but that's going too far.” (And indeed, that's all that happened.) Despite the accusations of some friends, I was not paid for this speech and would not have accepted the money if it had been offered to me.
What was clear to me was not so clear to my friends and former supporters: I was not going to be a Democrat. They were just the only party that offered me a chance to get my message across the country. It wasn't about partisanship; it was about standing up for the principles I was sworn to protect, principles that transcended party lines, principles that had inspired my career as a Republican politician in the first place.
Accepting the invitation did not mean agreeing with every policy position of the Democratic Party. It was about uniting with those who still believe in our nation's core principles: the rule of law, the sanctity of our elections, and the peaceful transfer of power. These are the cornerstones of our democracy, and they are worth defending, no matter the political cost.
So I accepted the invitation.
The process of speaking at a convention is mechanical: you rehearse the day before in a different room, go through any changes to the speech and make any final adjustments. On the day itself, you get your makeup done (to match the bright lights in the arena), enjoy some quiet time backstage to clear your head, and then it's time for the speech itself. It can all be overwhelming, and I wish I had taken a few more photos to remember these moments.
Before I took the podium, I thought briefly about how this young man who ran for Congress fourteen years ago ended up at the DNC. The political landscape in America has changed dramatically. Polarization, the rise of extremism, and the erosion of our democratic norms have reached a critical point. I have seen colleagues who were once loyal to the Constitution and our democratic institutions slowly compromise those values for political reasons.
It was painful, to say the least, to see my party – which once stood for limited government, individual liberty, and national security – misled by conspiracy theories and authoritarian tendencies. I don't regret speaking out, but I wish I had done so more often and sooner.
I chatted with the people backstage to calm my nerves and slow my heart rate. I tried not to think about the task ahead of me until my name was called. It worked quite well – adrenaline has a way of calming me down.
When I walked on stage, I was very aware of the importance of the moment. The lights, the cameras, the sea of faces – even for a former politician, it felt like a big stage. But the importance of the message I was about to deliver kept me grounded. I knew that if I succeeded, I would have to endure a barrage of attacks online and on TV from people I used to be close friends with. I knew that if I failed, I would be humiliated and ridiculed by those same people.
I spoke from the bottom of my heart. I didn't shy away from being a conservative and a Republican despite the audience that was physically in front of me, because I knew it wasn't my audience. Instead, I spoke to my Republican colleagues – about the dangers of extremism, about the importance of putting country before party, and about the urgent need to look within. I spoke directly to those who might be disillusioned, to those who might feel that their party no longer represents their values. I urged them to join me in putting our country first.
The response was overwhelming. Yes, I lost friendships, but there were also countless messages of support from people across the political spectrum. Many Republicans reached out to say they, too, felt lost in today's political climate and appreciated my willingness to voice their opinions. Democrats, independents, and others expressed their gratitude for my words. (I later learned that Fox News went black during my speech and that of the other Republicans at the DNC. I guess that's an indicator of success.)
I would have been proud to speak at the Republican National Convention this year. If I had been invited, I would have spoken on the same issues: respect for the Constitution, the precariousness of democracy, the indispensability of the rule of law – all of which I learned from the Reagan-era Republican Party that I joined. If Republicans aren't interested in that message, but Democrats are, I think that says more about them than it does about me.
I will continue to speak out, fight extremism, and stand up for what is right, no matter the cost to me personally or politically. And I hope that others, regardless of party affiliation, will join me in this effort. Our democracy depends on it.
