Politics has entered its Weird Era

And maybe that's okay

One piece of the Pantsuit Politics origin story took the form of a guest post I wrote for Sarah’s blog called #nuance. At the time (the good old days of early 2015), I was frustrated about pettiness on social media and suggested that we end our posts with #nuance as a reminder that the handful of words we’re using in public don’t sum up our comprehensive views on the universe. I was especially frustrated by arguments about Caitlin Jenner¹ winning the Arthur Ashe award for bravery. Many people in my Facebook feed at the time felt that “bravery” as a descriptor should be reserved for soldiers or cancer patients or entrepreneurs. But that list in itself shows the flexibility of bravery. Bravery brings to mind courage, perseverance, capacity for risk. It’s brave to sing in a talent show, to run for office, to rescue someone from a burning building. Good words are rich in possibility.

I mention this because those of us who are tuned into politics are now in our “weird” era. Popularized by Vice President Harris’s newly-minted running mate, Governor Tim Walz of Minnesota, “weird” is the word of the month to describe former President Trump, Project 2025, and especially Ohio Senator J.D. Vance. Everywhere you turn, someone has assembled a montage of “weird” wielded as a catchall to describe the undesirable characteristics of the Republican ticket. 

We’re fortunate to have people of lots of different philosophies in our audience, and so we heard this week from a kind but somewhat exasperated conservative listener. I’ll paraphrase her message this way: “Democrats are weird, too!” I write today to agree. 

“Weird,” like “brave,” is a good word because it’s a rich word. When Gov. Walz talks about Senator Vance’s “weirdness,” I think he means something like “this guy is pretty obviously inauthentic and stands for very unpopular and regressive policies.” I think that’s right. 

It’s also fair to apply “weird” to Democrats. Our listener pointed out that Democrats have announced their intentions to appoint a woman as Biden’s running mate and a Black woman to the Supreme Court. But then Democrats are outraged when Republicans call the Vice President and Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson “DEI picks.” In this context, everyone is being “weird” in the sense that we’re being unwise. I think we’d all be better off just making appointments without announcing the entire rubric of our decisions. I also think we’d all be better off by believing that an interest in truer representation can co-exist with an insistence on excellence². 

While we’re here, almost everything in politics gets weird! Every time I attend a political event or watch the State of the Union, I find the crowd responses deeply weird. These are political leaders—not rock stars. Why are we clapping after every sentence? Why are we interrupting a carefully crafted speech with chanting? While others seem to find it inspiring, motivating, and communal, I find it weird: uncomfortable, hyperbolic, and super inefficient. 

I’ve always found the phrase “my body, my choice” weird, by which I mean it’s incongruous with my experience. So little of what’s true about my body has been my choice. I’m a much bigger fan of Gov. Walz’s “mind your own damn business” as a reproductive rights policy framework. 

I think being big mad about other people’s pronouns or names or bathroom usage is weird in that it seems like a massive intrusion and overreaction. Using “they” to refer to one person feels weird to me in that it’s unfamiliar. It asks me to travel a different road in my brain than the well-worn one. But not addressing someone in the manner they prefer is weird in that it’s very rude³. 

Discussing what “Black voters,” “Hispanic voters,” “women voters,” or “college-educated voters” think is weird. Diner interviews that treat Midwesterners like exotic animals in the wild are weird. “Kamala is brat” is weird. The red hats are weird. 

“Weird” can result from shortcuts, carelessness, fun, awe, a desire to belong, a desire to distinguish ourselves. Some weirdness is so good, so joyful, so beautiful. It can also go dark. 

“Weird” can get mean. I’ve been a weird kid on a playground. I’ve been a weird adult at a happy hour. I’ve been the weird one on the podcast who feels differently than the vast majority of the audience. I’ve been weird in ways that get to my body and its size and looks and capabilities. Deployed with particular intentions, “weird” can sting and reject and cut. 

Words are multidimensional, and so we need to use them with care and precision. But we can get weird about that, too. I saw a tweet from Ryan Grim⁴ this week that was harsh but funny because it rang true.

I applaud the use of “weird” in this election because it signals that Democrats are finding some space, some confidence, some rizz as the kids (weirdly) say⁵. The truth expressed by Ryan Grim’s tweet, as I see it, is this: In trying to take more care with words, certain Democrats, especially certain Democrats who are very online, can make it weird. Weird, in that they give the words too much power, in that what begins as an act of care for one person turns into an act of ostracizing someone else, in that they ask people to very casually discount or even reject everything that’s familiar to them. Republicans are big mad about “wokeism,” and I find the extent of that anger weird. But I see what they’re talking about. I feel optimistic that the Democratic presidential ticket is working on that particular strain of weirdness. I feel optimistic when I read reports that Speaker Mike Johnson has told his colleagues to dial down the “DEI pick” language. That, too, feels like working on a strain of weirdness. 

As someone who inhabits weirdness along a bunch of dimensions, I love musical theater. I especially love Avenue Q, which is a pretty weird show! If you’re unfamiliar, Avenue Q is adult Sesame Street. A bunch of puppets, fresh out of college, sing about how life and money and relationships are…well, weird. In a show that goes hard from curtain to curtain, the song “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” is a standout. It’s funny because it expresses something true, and it’s brilliant because it shows how critique and learning, even around very personal and painful topics, can be lighter. It gets to the essential, lifegiving, game-changing difference between “what you said or did has elements of racism; don’t say or do that again” and “you’re racist, and therefore nothing else about you matters, and you’re a despicable human being forever.” 

“Weird” gets to the essential, lifegiving, game-changing difference between “these are people who shouldn’t be running the country and who are selling ideas we don’t want“ and “these are the worst people to ever live, and the people who vote for them are despicable human beings forever.” We can work with weird! We can live with weird! We can sometimes embrace weird! Everyone’s a little bit weird! 

And so, to me, using “weird” in describing an opponent is a pretty good, pretty harmless, pretty effective way to have a vigorously contested election while trying to get our fractured public taking baby steps toward each other. We can take it too far, or we can remember that we have the power to calibrate. We can remember that good words are rich in possibility, and we can take care to use them and hear them in a way that’s #nuanced.

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We’ve loved revisiting The Nuanced Life this summer and hearing your commemorations, celebrations, and reflections on life. Today, Sarah shared her conversation with her grandmother reflecting on her long life and aging. In the spirit of commemoration and celebration, we saved this beautiful commemoration from Mary Jo on her 40th Birthday Party to share with all of you today.

Dear Sarah and Beth and Maggie and Alise,

I turned 40 on Friday, and the party was absolutely epic. It was the culmination of months of planning and practice and totally worth it.

My favorite way to celebrate is to dress up and dance, so I tried to re-create a high school prom on the second floor of a local pub, Molly Malone's in Covington (yes, I'm also an NKY girl). I bought a gorgeous blue rhinestone-encrusted dress, sparkly silver dancing shoes, a tiara, and dangly earrings to match a necklace that was my grandma's. My husband and I learned a choreographed Viennese waltz to music from Cinderella (the Brandy version) so that we could perform it for friends and family at the party. (It was my version of the kinds of 'pranks' my brothers are famous for putting on at our family's weddings.) To get my young sons on board, I got them cool outfits, too--a Pac-Man shirt for the older and a blue sequin jacket for the younger. My mom insisted on improving the plan to include a DJ and photo booth. We made a guest list of about 40 people, mostly family.

Invitations included a picture of me in a pink formal dressmaking my 'promposal' and specified "Attire: the most fabulous outfit you already own." I made an hour-long slideshow full of family pictures (especially old prom or formal pictures,) which included every guest. I made a song list for the DJ full of all the best dance songs from prom 2002 and family weddings 2010-22. The menu was pub food--chicken tenders, soft pretzels and cheese, potato skins, smoked salmon bites, and pinwheel sandwiches, with mini cheesecakes for dessert. I used champagne gold decor, including satin tablecloths, sparkly garlands and table skirts, and sparkly candleholders left over from my brother's wedding. For favors, I got (fake flower) wrist corsages and boutonnieres, along with crowns and tiaras for the photo booth. I wrote each guest a personal note thanking them for coming and telling them why I love them. Because I'm a big reader, I also filled a bowl with book recommendations for guests to pick. Each slip of paper had a picture of the book cover and a short description of the book. (That part didn't really go with the prom theme, I guess, but it fit ME.)

I was afraid people would think this was a lame, weird kind of party to have, but I was surprised how excited everyone got about the idea. My sister said some of her friends wanted to come and I said sure. They all showed up and showed OUT. It helps that my people love to dance and party.

My favorite memories:

• My mom getting teary as she watched us practice our dance before guests arrived

• Reconnecting with old friends from high school and grade school,

• Goofing around in the photo booth,

• Gazing around at everyone singing happy birthday to me

• Twirling with my husband and hearing everyone cheer for our waltz

• My older son going on 'missions,'

• Nostalgic line dances like Booti Call,

• My brother and cousin being the life of the party as always, tearing up the dance floor to 'Shout' and 'Jump Around’

• Dancing with my sequined younger son, who truly discovered the joy of music and movement that night

• Swaying to "Piano Man" in a circle with my whole family

• Grabbing my dad to dance during "Don't Stop Believin,"

• Being surrounded by everyone I love the most as we danced to "Time of My Life," (my high school's prom theme in 2002)

• The pile of sweet cards and wine bottles we took home (unexpected but very appreciated)

• My godmother's especially generous and meaningful gift

• So many hugs and so much smiling that my face hurt the next day (but not as much as my feet!).

I've never felt so loved or had so much fun in one night! I just wanted to share with the Pantsuit Politics community because it was something I worked hard for and am proud of. I thought hard about how I wanted to celebrate this milestone, and I made it happen. I was intentional about almost every aspect of the party, inspired by The Power of Ritual and The Art of Gathering. I was hoping to use the celebration to celebrate and cement my relationships like being at a wedding party can do. I wanted the party to be about and for my guests, and to make them feel special and have fun. I also wanted to express myself and live out a little dream, and I think I accomplished those goals. Sarah's thoughts on reunions in the last episode also really hit home for me because of this experience. I'm so glad I reached out and invited my elementary school best friend, who I haven't seen in over 20 years!

Thanks for letting me share this experience with you and maybe with listeners! The podcast and 'More to Say' episodes are the highlight of my day, every day.

Love,
Mary Jo Tewes Cramb

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1. And because things haven’t materially improved since then, #nuance! Caitlin Jenner contains multitudes. I do not intend to express anything about Caitlin Jenner here.

2. If you’ve watched the Vice President in a Senate hearing or read a single opinion Justice Jackson has authored, your doubts about their excellence will evaporate. You might not agree with them, but you can’t doubt their skills.

3. I say this not to discount the very tough issues and real suffering surrounding sex and gender. I know many of you are wrestling with the way this shows up in elite sports. There are tough questions here. As we’ve seen in the Olympics, biology can be weird in that it can defy our usual categorization and understanding. Future people will probably think our current understanding of biology is weird, just as we think our ancestors had weird ideas about biology.

4.  #nuance! Ryan Grim’s timeline is filled with things I disagree with. I’m sure he contains multitudes. This mention is not a statement about him in any way.

5. My daughters would tell me how weird this sentence is.