How It Felt to Address the Democratic Convention as a Republican

I never expected to do it, I paid a personal price for it, and I would definitely do it again.

(Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images)

IF YOU HAD TOLD ME when I was first running for Congress in 2010 that in 2024 I’d be speaking at a presidential nominating convention, I would have assumed that my political career had taken off. Getting a speaking slot at a convention usually means your party likes you and wants to highlight you and invest in your future. Being invited to speak at the opposite party’s convention—well, that signals something altogether different.

When I first received the invitation to speak at the Democratic National Convention, I wasn’t that surprised. Rumors had been swirling that I would speak along with other Republicans, and it seems like I was the last to find out. I debated it in my own head. I knew it would raise eyebrows. Some in my party, friend groups, and family would accuse me of betrayal, and others would question my motives. I knew there would be angry texts and probably a few more lost friendships because “I could take you investigating January 6th, but this is too far.” (Sure enough, that all happened.) Despite the accusations from a few friends, I didn’t get paid for this speech, and wouldn’t have accepted the money if it was offered.

What was clear to me wasn’t as clear to my friends and former supporters: I wasn’t becoming a Democrat. They were just the only party offering me a chance to deliver my message to the whole country. It’s not about partisanship; it was about standing up for the principles I had sworn to protect, principles that transcended party lines, principles that inspired my career as a Republican politician in the first place.

Accepting the invitation wasn’t about agreeing with every policy position of the Democratic party. It was about uniting with those who still believe in the fundamental principles of our nation: 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 giving a convention speech is mechanical: You rehearse in a different room the day before, go over any edits to the speech, and make any last-minute adjustments. The day of, you get your makeup (to accommodate the bright lights in the arena), enjoy some quiet time backstage to get your head on straight, and then it’s time for the speech itself. It can all be overwhelming, and I wish I would have taken a few more pictures to remember those moments by.

Before stepping out to the rostrum, I took a second to reflect on how that young buck running for Congress fourteen years ago had wound up at the DNC. The political landscape in America has changed dramatically. The polarization, the rise of extremism, and the erosion of our democratic norms has reached a critical point. I’ve seen colleagues, once dedicated to the Constitution and our democratic institutions, slowly compromise those values for the sake of political expediency.

It was painful, to say the least, to see my party—which once stood for limited government, individual liberty, and national security—be led astray by conspiracy theories and authoritarian tendencies. I have no regrets about speaking out, except that I wish I had done so more and sooner.

I chatted with the folks backstage to steady my nerves and slow my heart rate. I tried to keep my mind off the task before me until my name was announced. It worked okay—adrenaline has a way of calming me.

As I walked onto that stage, I was acutely aware of the gravity of the moment. The lights, the cameras, the sea of faces—even for a former politician, it felt like a big stage. But the weight of the message I was about to deliver grounded me. I knew that if I was successful, I would have to endure a rash of attacks online and on TV from people I used to be close with. I knew if I failed, I would endure humiliation and ridicule from the same people.

I spoke from the heart. I didn’t shy away from being a conservative and a Republican despite the audience physically in front of me, because I knew they weren’t my audience. I spoke instead to my fellow Republicans—about the dangers of extremism, about the importance of putting country over party, and about the urgent need for soul searching. I spoke directly to those who might feel 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 they appreciated my willingness to speak out. Democrats, independents, and others expressed their gratitude for my words. (I later learned that Fox News cut away during my speech and those of the other Republicans at the DNC. I guess that’s one indicator of success.)

I would have been proud to speak at the Republican convention this year. If invited, I would have spoken on the same themes: 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 I joined. If the Republicans aren’t interested in that message and the Democrats are, I figure it says more about them than about me.

I will continue to speak out, to challenge extremism, and to stand up for what is right, no matter the personal or political cost. And I hope that others, regardless of their party affiliation, will join me in this effort. Our democracy depends on it.